


Sins Fell Angels

by Skyesurfer12



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-22 05:32:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 276,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6067003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyesurfer12/pseuds/Skyesurfer12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book Two of the 'Wings' Series.  This picks up immediately where Wings of Grace left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Sins Fell Angels is the second book in the Wings trilogy. The story began in Wings of Grace, found here in my works.

Chapter One

-x-

John Casey examined himself in the mirror, smoothing a hand down the front of the knee-length black overcoat, wondering if he had missed any persnickety details.

He had a job to do today, and in the absence of things like purity and decency –God knows, they walked out years ago - he could always fall back on a good disguise. It worked, too. A disguise guarded something hidden, untouchable. Kept everything deep, where it sure as hell belonged. He was never at ease in his own skin, anyway, so being another man was just something else to get used to.

Then a big fucking monkey-wrench shaped like a tall scarecrow with hair screwed up everything. He only knew it was harder now, and when he tried to sleep at night, hearing only crickets and not soft snoring, hungry for the heat from a warm body under the covers, it came to him that he’d never figure out a way to get that kid out of his soul.

Tugging on a sleeve, he took one last inventory of the clothing. Maroon velvet along the collar, black wool trousers, ebony-colored boots. The entire effect was to command respect, dispel doubt. Perhaps intimidate, but wasn’t that the man he needed to be today? Liam’s clothes, Liam’s manner to take command, it all had to fit without a glimmer of doubt.

“Christ. Look at you.” When Casey pivoted to the side, the light from the hotel window hit his profile, skimming over the angle of his jaw and cheekbone. As he did it, he snorted softly to himself at his reflection. “Feel like an idiot.”

The jeans and weathered brown duster he had worn into the room lay draped over the quilt on the bed. With his trail clothes, his arrival after sunset had gone largely unnoticed in a busted-up town like La Junta. A few drunks at the Red Apron across the muddy street had attempted to call him in – to play faro cards, they said, though it could’ve been to rob him. They would try, anyway.

“Guess that’s it,” he said, examining his handiwork. “Only a face a mother could love – if she were blinded by a pitchfork.” The concoction was something he hated intensely, but it had taken several years to perfect the mixture of derma wax. The dubious ingredients, when softened and kneaded, were colorless and blended with the natural hue of skin. He turned his chin a few inches to the left and then the right. His nose was wider, his jaw line softened from the angular bone. Blending light lines on his forehead and around his mouth gave him the extra ten years he needed.

The eyes were a problem, and something Casey had never quite found a way to master. An aqua lagoon could not become the sky on the darkest night. It meant a pair of tinted wireframe glasses would have to do.

Casey automatically dropped a hand to his hip for the hundredth time, forgetting the pocket watch wasn’t there. Jesus. Focus. He reminded himself he was only doing this because Liam took pride in his appearance, and to assume the man meant every last detail had to be meticulous. ‘Always look the part, Johnnie, and the rabble will believe every word’.

So he did. Railroad executives, highfalutin bankers who carried linen handkerchiefs and smelled like violets or lavender, and not at all like the way God had intended a man to smell. Once he became a professor who taught men to write. Literary works and intellectual postulations, emptying the contents of their brains on paper for others to judge.

Hell. Idiots.

Casey squinted at his reflection. Overall, not bad. Not his best, but passable. Slipping a hand under the topcoat, he tucked the pistol in the holster. One more glance up and down, and he let out a slow breath.

Casey had been all those men, too many to remember, but never this one. He never had to be the man who owned him.

-x-

“Laddie, there you are,” Liam said, and his face creased into a tight smile, reminding Casey of a wolf baring its teeth. His boss set down his ink pen and motioned for him to come in. “I wondered when you would find me. Sam said you arrived after supper.”

“Nice of the bastards to save some, too,” Casey grumbled. He took off his hat and moved away from the doorway. “Jo took care of me. I ate in the kitchen ... just now.”

“Good ... good.” As Liam settled back in the chair, he appraised him, his black eyes crawling from his face, down his torso, over his long legs. “The road wasn’t hard on you. You look as grand as the day I set eyes on you.”

“Feel twenty years older,” Casey answered back, looking down at the dusty hat in his hands. He had felt twenty years dirtier until the last week of his life.

“Sit.” Liam’s smile dimmed, and he waved a hand at the parlor chair in front of his desk. “I want to hear all of it.”

Fuck if he would tell him any of it. He had three days to conjure up the lie. Three days on the trail to come up with a way out. Telling stories came naturally, and hell, Casey was damn good at it. But he never had a reason to lie to his boss.

That part of his past blew up in smoke at the farm.

Slanting back in the chair, he stretched his legs out and crossed his boots at the ankles. “I’d like to hear what happened,” Casey said, “I want to know who it was that did this –”

“I know it wasn’t you, Johnnie.”

“Who then?”

“Your first instincts where dead on,” Liam observed, and picking up a match, he tapped it on the desk. “That’s why I always trust them.”

Now that was a load of bullshit, but Casey kept his lips pressed together, waiting for Liam to go on.

“It was the greasy little dodger who put the documents together for us. He was the one who tipped off Connolly. They didn’t know who you were – they still don’t – but they knew you were brought in to sell the story. To get them to make the deal.”

“I take it Black Rock is now looking for a new forgery expert?” Because Casey would bet his rifle that the one previously under Liam’s employ most likely hanged from a high limb after that stupid stunt.

Liam shrugged, confirming Casey’s guess. He flipped open the box in front of him and pinched one of his rolled cigarettes. “Cheaters never prosper, eh, laddie?”

“Gents?” Behind him, Casey heard the door swing open, the rattling of cups, rustling of a wide skirt. “Enough of your skeersome prattle,” the woman scolded, frowning at her boss. She set a hand on Casey’s shoulder and gave him a friendly shake. “This one’s a sight for sore eyes, and you’re already in here, filling his head -”

“Saddle stiff, is all,” Liam said. “Right as rain by morning. Isn’t that so, Johnnie?”

“Berry pie’s been known to cure sores,” Casey said, taking advantage of her magnanimous mood. It didn’t happen often.

“Oof.” The auburn haired spinster clucked at him and set a silver tray on the corner of the desk. Jo had been employed by Liam as long as Casey could recall, mostly due to the fact she knew how to keep her mouth shut and could cook the bejesus out of anything.

“Those smelly things,” she went on with a disapproving sniff. The cook put her hands on her broad hips and shook her head at her boss and his cigarette. “Here’s your tea, ducky.”

“Thank you, my slommack.” Liam smiled deviously at her. Their pet names for each other were something Casey never gave much thought to, though he wondered why Liam could call her a dirty slut and not get smacked by a wooden spoon upside the head.

Liam helped himself to the first pour. It fascinated Casey in an ironic, dark way that his boss insisted on a gentlemen’s tea – imported Ceylon served in china cups - punctually at eight each evening. Maybe he thought the act of propriety would wash the blood from under his fingernails.

Casey took a swallow of the tea and remained quiet until he heard the door close behind him. “What about you?” he asked in a low voice. “What do they think?”

Liam waited to answer, lifted the silver tea ball and set it on a saucer. “They think I was simply deceived by the same plot to get Connolly to agree to the sale.”

So Liam fell into a pig sty, rolled around in the mud, and came out smelling like French perfume. Jesus, was there anything that would ever bring the man down?

“And my role in all of this? ‘Mr. Gould’?”

“They think you were the mastermind behind the plan,” Liam told him, repressing a smile, though Casey reflected that Liam was the last person who needed to cultivate a more convincing poker face. “In a way, they’re right.”

“So they’re looking for me.”

“Not to worry, Johnnie. Oh, there may be more ... scrutiny in the county while they search for a tall man with blue eyes, but we’ll keep you under the covers, here at home, until the excitement dies down.”

Casey shifted his attention to the tea. Staying here would delay his freshly made plans, but he had warned the kid he needed time. “I have nowhere better to be, I guess,” he said, thinking of the one place he wanted to get to. “I’ve had enough of the trail ... sleeping on places that break a man’s back. Nothing but soft tack and water.”

“Tell me, laddie,” Liam prompted, smiling at him over the cup, “where did you spend the past fortnight? Do I need to be worried that someone knows who you are?” He said with a chuckle, though Casey knew there was no humor there. “Did you find a place to heal? Take care of that shoulder of yours?”

“It was barely a flesh wound.” Assuming a nonchalant attitude, Casey tipped his head to the side where the bullet had passed through him. “I took care of it myself.”

“Where were you?”

A sip of tea let him burn through a few seconds, though he had already prepared this part of the story. “When we parted ways, I headed southeast. Kept to old the Comanche Indian trail for three days and nights, until I found a homesteader’s cabin on the outer boundary of Kiowa County.” He had his other hand on his knee, out of sight, but something in Liam’s perusal made him squeeze down on his thigh. “That’s where I stayed, out of sight. Just as you said.”

Liam raised a brow. “Occupied?”

“It was abandoned,” Casey said. “Not surprising. A shack in the middle of a hell-hole canyon. No one in his right mind would settle there. Either starved to death, or gave up and crawled back East.”

“Then ... no witnesses ... nobody to tell stories later on?”

Casey set the cup in the saucer and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, because there was no way he was using one of those tea towels. “No loose ends left behind. That’s what I live by.”

“You seemed to have survived quite well, Johnnie.” Liam rubbed his jaw while Casey listened for the hint of suspicion, but it wasn’t there. “But you always do.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, still damp with sweat from the ride. “The trail hasn’t gotten easier, and we’ve only gotten older.” Pushing the tea away, he rose from his chair. “I’ll be better after a night in my own bed.”

“Leaving so soon, Johnnie? Stay, stay.” Beckoning at the chair, Liam lit the cigarette he had been fiddling with between his fingers. “I know you don’t have appreciation for my tea, but Jo can bring two more glasses. Some Scotch would suit you, eh?”

He hesitated at the doorway, but it was only to pick the words to dissuade him. “The only thing I need more than that right now is a hot bath,” Casey said. “Jo’s already filling the tub. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll leave you with the tea. Good night.”

“John, one more thing.” Rising from his chair behind the desk, Liam came around to the front of it and leaned against the edge. He took a long drag, watching Casey carefully. “I’d like you to stay close, boyo. No new jobs for the next few weeks.”

“Is there a problem?” Casey asked, keeping his voice neutral. He already had one hand on the door.

“No. No problem, Johnnie. Just think of it as a chance to lay low for a while.” Another drag, and he said quieter, “Maybe redeem yourself.”

Casey’s gaze fell to the cigarette. “I didn’t know I needed to.”

“Of course not.” His boss tapped the ashes into a brass ashtray. “We have a simple job, but without it the deal falls through. It all comes down to the trust between you and me, isn’t that right, laddie.”

“You’ve always trusted me.”

“And I’d rather cut my own heart out than to lose your trust,” Liam said. “I’ve dealt with the piece of dung who knifed us in the back. But you understand my concern. Oh, it’s nothing, mo daor, don’t get yourself balled up tonight,” he added with haste, noticing Casey had stiffened. “You’re not mockered in my eyes, nothing can taint that bond. You’ll ... always be my first boy.”

Though he could see Liam was being gentle about his lingering doubts, testing his reaction, Casey knew the man was a viper. Words seeped into his brain, something Liam had told him long ago about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer.

Didn’t take a genius like the kid to understand his motivations.

“I know it wasn’t you, Johnnie-boy. But you understand my concern. We can’t take a risk of exposing Black Rock.” Liam pointed with his cigarette towards the chair and smiled. But his face was white, strained lines around his mouth. “Now come and have a drink with me.”

“My bath. It’s waiting for me, and I prefer it not stone cold.” Casey nodded his good-bye and walked out before Liam could ask again.

Taking the darkened hallway to the stairs, Casey considered what had happened. He had to prove he wasn’t the enemy. Even though that’s exactly who he was now.

-x-

Casey settled his shoulders against the cool porcelain tub and closed his eyes. Every other time, this was the moment he could shed the job, whatever place he had traveled to, whoever he had deceived, and let it roll off his skin. This time, it was infinitely trickier, perhaps sublimely impossible. Like he could forget. As if he would want to.

He looked down into the water, the heat coiling around him, the dim light in his bedroom exactly like that night at the farm. That’s where the similarities ended. The faraway memory of when he shared a bath and a bit more with the kid swamped him. Casey had to wonder what he was doing tonight, even as his heart twisted at the question.

-x-

“Give me the towel. I can do it.”

“So can I.” Reaching up, Casey brushed a thumb over his temple before he unglued a few curls from the kid’s forehead. Tender, but his look was pure determination. “Put your hands down.”

Chuck wavered only fleetingly before lowering his arms to his sides. His fists doubled up, more out of embarrassment at his erection still so obviously there and on display. Casey, however, ignored that for now, and began methodically drying the water streaming over his bare skin.

 

The kid swallowed against the touch as the towel rubbed down his spine, across his shoulder blades. When it trailed down to his ass, Casey squeezed a cheek firmly, making Chuck jolt. “Hey. Easy back there,” he grumbled. “I may need that for later, too.”

 

“Oh, kid, you have no idea,” Casey agreed softly. With a brisk touch, the towel came around the front to do the same to the kid’s flat stomach and chest. Casey then brought it up to his shoulders, neck, and at last his hair. He scrubbed gently to dry his dark mop, and before he pulled away, he swiped at the trickles that ran down the kid’s cheek. 

For a million reasons he would deny, he wanted more of him. More of the man he held to be his.

All his.

-x-

“You know ... what I’d appreciate from you? If you’d stop looking at me like that.” Chuck said it with bone-weary sarcasm, but even smart horses had a tough time with the gradations of satire, so he was sure he had wasted his breath on this one.

Attempting to roll on his side, he looked away from the pathetic animal and turned a cheek upward. As his luck would have it, an hour ago the clouds over him opened up, and seeing that the kid was facing the rolling billows above him, heavy drops splattered on his cheeks, forehead, trickled down his bare neck like icy fingers.

“And you? If you’re listening,” he mumbled to the sky, “you could make it stop raining. That would be helpful.”

Of course, neither hapless beast nor the Mighty Deity were in the mood to take orders from the most miserable and ill-fated man on the damn planet. He could go on, adding most soaked and shivering, but that seemed a bit self-defeatist, and he really didn’t want to deal with his imminent death right now. He was a little too tired and sick of it.

The last time he was this wet and cold, a man offered him a haven.

Chuck had been too cold to fight him; there was too much temptation to gather into his heat. The brown duster, it carried his scent. Even now, in his numbing exhaustion, he could feel it surrounding him, flush to his body, along his hips, thighs. The coat ebbed warmth, sparking the contact points between them.

That afternoon in the cave felt like years ago.

-x-

The patter of the rain filled the silence. At length, Casey leaned back, wavered, and then drew a few fingers down the kid’s arm. “Warm?” he asked in a low voice. “Or are you gonna complain?”

“I’m ….” A dull flush started creeping up Chuck’s neck, and he glimpsed over at him warily. With some hesitation, he drew his hand down to Casey’s leg, letting his stolen touch wander to his knee. It felt strange having someone pressed to him, the touch sending a path of gooseflesh over his arms. “I’m good. Is this … okay?”

For an answer, Casey drew the back of his knuckles along the wet rough fabric of the kid’s thigh.  
He said nothing. Nor did he move away.

Minutes slipped by, and Chuck felt his muscles relax, sinking back into it, sinking closer into the heat. Gradually, the kid loosed the grip on his knees, made absent small circles with the pad of his thumb against the denim. It was the fabric of Casey’s jeans, right at the point where their thighs brushed together. The first time Casey let Chuck touch any part of him.

-x-

“Case – ah.”

Chuck jolted from his dream, eyes wide.

What the hell? It took him a moment to register where he was. He couldn’t get loose, an anxious feeling, replaced by the pit of fear when he realized he was still hog-tied.

“You know what?” he mumbled to himself. “That’s the least of your problems.”

Closing his eyes to ward off the water gathered on his lashes, Chuck parted his lips, licking the droplets from his mouth. It was the only fortuitous aspect of the rain, since the men had forgotten to give him water since breakfast. Or was it dinner last night?

Bending his neck as far as he could, he opened wider, splatters hitting his tongue, his throat. When he felt his mouth half full, he swallowed, and stupidly coughed up some of it at the cut of pain in his ribs. It was enough, for now. Enough not to die this minute, under a willow tree in a rain storm, bound up next to the horse that had to have the dumbest luck in the world to be stuck with him.

The men had no intention to kill him, did they? Or wouldn’t they have done it by now?

He only thought of them as Scar Nose and Rotted Teeth, though he had overheard them refer to each other with their given names. It made him feel at least a little vindicated to label them grotesquely, and keep it at that. What kind of men would leave someone like this to go drink in a two-bit rum-hole set among a few shacks and a brothel, anyway?

Okay, this wasn’t working. Muck oozed against the side of his face, his temple, against his ear. He had to at least try to roll over on his side again, maybe find a way to get to a patch of grass. Fighting against the restraints proved to be useless, almost as futile as trying to move - or even call out – owing to the fact he was pretty sure he had a few cracked ribs.

“One ... one more try.” Chuck sucked in air between his teeth, and put his force on one side, cringing when he managed to get over to his shoulder. “God, that hurts.”

He coughed again, blinked up at the horse until the rain made him shut his eyes. “It wasn’t my idea to leave you here,” he said to the animal. “But since you are, do you want to make yourself useful ... and maybe grow an opposable thumb? Oh, and learn to speak English?”

The strong bay raised its head and eyed him with a look Chuck swore he could peg as boredom before snatching a clump of grass between its teeth.

“No, no, don’t trouble yourself, I’m fiiine over here.” Chuck took a shallow breath, winced. Even if he could call out, Rotted Teeth had warned him he didn’t want to attract the kind of man who would turn away from the bar and stumble up the steep hill to the place they had left him. The kid didn’t even want to think about the insinuation behind the dirty laugh and the look they exchanged when he said it.

If only ... he could get his feet free from the rope. Get a stick wedged under there, somehow, and pull....

God! Why did it have to be so hard! Why was it like this?

Giving up on that, Chuck let his head fall to the cold mud again. Hey, it wasn’t that bad. It was soft at least.

Shit.

With the silence, only the drumming of the rain, came disquieting thoughts. Thoughts he had told himself would be best to throw behind a door and lock out of his head, yet they slithered in on their belly.

The first was the gift. Yeah, that was some gift. All these years, he was prompted – no, goaded, he sneered to himself – to believe he was the benefactor of something beyond mortal boundaries. He should use It, the way It was predetermined.

It felt like poison swimming between his ears.

Hatred was another kind of poison controlling him, though he told himself it didn’t matter anymore.

Chuck felt tears sting his eyes, but he had sworn to himself after yesterday, he had leaked out everything and there was nothing more. Hurt and loathing for that betrayer welled up strong enough now, able to swipe away anything that might’ve spilled out onto his cheeks. All the tears were done.

-x-

“Do you trust me?”

The kid slanted his head at Casey, startled by the question. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“I’ll put it this way, then. Do you trust me enough?” he asked.

The nuance wasn’t lost on him. Chuck pressed his lips together, and raising his head, his attention settled first on Casey’s lips, before shifting to his eyes.

“You’ve had a hundred chances to hurt me, and each time you seemed … to do exactly what I didn’t expect. I do …enough to know that no matter what happens, right now, it’ll be okay.” 

-x-

Trust washed down his skin, into the mud and grass. He only felt disgust and shame at his own idiocy for surrendering, letting him just walk into a room of his spirit and heart, trusting him to treat gently what he found there.

-x-

“Brown eyes,” Casey muttered at the giant asshole in the mirror, “you’re never going to know about this.”

At least the dark, cutaway coat fit properly, covering the bulk and muscle of his upper body, narrowing at the waist. He smiled, but not because he felt cheered. One more time, the suppleness of the derma wax was tested, meaning it underwent a carefully choreographed chain of expressions. Austere, friendly ... charming if he needed to be.

Here goes. “Mr. Wentworth,” he said, evenly, without any evidence of an Irish brogue, on account that Liam never revealed his inflection to outsiders. “This is more than a cordial call today. There is a matter of business to attend to.”

Looking in the mirror, Casey had to ask the man in front of him one question.

Why the fuck was he doing this?

It all came to him, the night he found trouble. Fate, that ornery bitch, dropped him on a desolate farm, steering him with wicked force to find the last thing he ever thought he would.

A damn lost kid. Casey had kicked his door open, and little did he know that the city boy would do the same to him a thousand times over.

But why him? Undeniably, there was the physical component – Lord God was there ever – that they had gradually discovered, but it went beyond the intensity of an orgasm. More like combustion, tuned to every rigid muscle, every touch or kiss.

Nothing, no man, no woman, had smothered him, seen through him, washed away dirt and shit from the inside out. Holding the kid was the same as holding a blade. Even if it cut him to the bone and split him in half, he needed it too much to let go. That’s what it was like. And it killed him, knowing he had irrevocably fallen too deep.

-x-

Casey opened his sleepy eyes to find his young lover’s face very, very close, his nose nearly brushing the line of his jaw. Chuck had leaned over him, one hand bracing his chin, his dark chocolate eyes watching him intently.

“Are you awake?” the kid asked in a quiet voice. His other hand moved in a slow, dragging stroke down the center of Casey’s chest, over smooth muscle to his abdomen ….

“I am now.” Casey heard his own voice getting throaty. The short cat nap in front of the fire, sprawled out on a thick blanket, was partially to blame for the sleep-rough tone. But the rest of the blame lay firmly on the shoulders of the beautiful kid next to him.

“Do you ... know why I did it?” Chuck murmured it softly. When Casey didn’t answer right away, he moved on top of him, elbows on either side of his head, placing his face directly over Casey’s. “Why I brought you there?”

Casey closed his eyes and ran a hand over the slope of the kid’s smooth ass cheek. A matter of convenience, because hell, it was right there for the taking. And now he wanted to be chatty? After they had plumb exhausted themselves, finding the temptation and newness of willing human contact too great to fight. Sleep wasted time, but now the bath, the fire, it all made him drowsy.

“I know you’ll stay there ... being a bother until I ask.”

A finger traced the edge of his jaw. “You catch on fast,” Chuck answered. “Why, then?”

“Because you wanted to get me wet and naked?” Casey drew one eye open to a slit, seeing that he didn’t want to miss his flushed cheeks. “You’re motivations are transparent, cupcake.”

Instead of smiling, ducking his head, or just getting on with riding him again, the kid’s face became serious. “I’ll admit, that’s part of it ... but I want you to know the rest.”

The cool solemnity of his voice contrasted with the warm fingers, taking a long trip down his ribcage. Amazingly deft and gentle, the kid brought his hands up again, rolling along each of Casey’s arms, over the swell of his biceps, to his wrists. It surprised him when he felt Chuck tighten his grasp, drag his arms out the sides, forming a perfect cross of surrender.

“I did it because you forgot that you’re a good man, underneath everything I see and touch.” Chuck clenched his fingers. Swallowed. “You think because you’ve sinned, you are those sins and there’s nothing else but bones and flesh.”

It was the last thing he had expected from the kid, the words coming from his lips, so close to his. The urge to shove him off was sudden, but there was Chuck’s breath warm on his face and his hands held in a grip he was powerless to break. A broken-winged butterfly trapped under a net had more capacity to fight.

“I had to make you remember ... that you could see yourself redeemed.” Chuck smiled, but it wasn’t his usual burst of sunshine. “You’re just a man, maybe one too proud to back down, but you’re not those sins. They don’t make you who you are -”

“You sound like a damn traveling circuit pastor, preaching to nerves instead of judgment.” Jaw tightening, Casey’s hands reflexively balled into fists under the kid’s palms, a quiet warning. “Riling up a crowd into frenzy, telling a thief or a killer he can be healed with the laying of hands.”

The fire’s dying flames, slowly hissing, gave enough light on Chuck’s face to see his resolve. “These hands?” He clamped down one more time, palm to wrist. “No, they don’t have magical powers. They can’t heal.” He pulled his face back, sweeping those dark inquisitive eyes over his. “They only fix things that are broken.”

Casey stared up at him, giving away nothing at the irony. It wasn’t lost on the kid, either. He ducked his head, taking Casey aback by nipping gently on his bottom lip, then kissing him deeply. Casey succumbed to a quiver, closed his eyes and let Chuck take his lips, which reminded him how long it had been since he lost his precious control.

Chuck’s lips whispered along the side of his neck, his jaw brushing his. There was rough stubble and a grip he wouldn’t break out from under. “You might’ve fallen,” the kid said softly against his skin, “but ... I still see angel’s wings. They may be bruised, battered ... but they’re still there. Only waiting for you to remember.”

-x-

That was why he did it. Right there. No one saw that in him.

-x-

“Mr. O’ Doherty. Welcome, sir, to -”

“Please, call me Liam,” Casey corrected, lips twisting into a smile.

“Liam,” the banker, Mr. Wentworth, continued, obviously uncomfortable using such a familiar moniker for a man of Liam’s wealth, “I must say we’re terribly disappointed to be losing you as a customer. You’re our ... most esteemed business partner, and if there is anything I can say ... or do to make you -”

The rest of his bootlicking and pandering was lost on Casey. The larger man had no doubt that if he suggested a blow job - here in the main lobby of JPMorgan Chase & Co - would be the only thing to make him consider leaving the seventy-eight thousand dollars in their vault, the bank manager would gladly fall to his knees. Damn, that’s pathetic.

“Your chairman shouldn’t think of it as losing a customer – or the holdings.” Casey’s voice was mild as he took a seat in the chair the squatty man offered, and then he bent to retrieve the leather satchel. “An investment opportunity has presented itself to me, simple as that. Risky, but if my partners and I strike now, it may prove to be quite lucrative.”

“We would only hope that you would consider engaging in business with us again, Mr. O’ Doherty.” Wetting his lips, the banker traced his finger over the thick envelope he held, visibly resentful that he had to hand it over. Casey vaguely wondered if he would have to wrestle him to the dingy maroon carpet in order to pry it from his hand. “Our humble office would welcome –”

“Indeed, if the deal is advantageous for Black Rock,” Casey assured him, pretended to give the envelope a bland, cursory glance. “Your branch has treated us as a valued partner as well, and I’m certain we’ll do business again. Perhaps I can consult with the representatives on your behalf.”

“Sir, if you could influence the decision in our favor -”

“Are there papers for me to sign?”

“Well, yes, I have them ... right here.”

“Good.” A few quick strokes of the ink pen sealed the deal. “I’m sure this will work out well for all parties,” Casey said, clearing his throat politely. He took the envelope from the man’s stiff fingers, since the banker had yet to give it up. It took considerable effort to smile at him, because the wool itched and the derma wax was unpleasant, but Casey managed. “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Wentworth.”

“If there is anything we can -”

“Good day.” Tucking the thick envelope into the leather satchel, Casey rose to his feet. He returned the black bowler hat to his head and tipped it civilly at the unsettled man.

As he strode out of the JPMorgan Chase & Co. offices in La Junta, he shook his head at the idea of the dumb shits who robbed banks by barging in with blazing rifles, spitting bullets and full of skunk piss. The only way to rob a bank, and his boss in this case, was to leave respectfully through the front door.

-x-

“Not that way, Vic.” Casey gave a gentle tug to the reins, though he had to smile at the horse’s intelligence. Vic’s instincts had steered her head north where the trail split, in the direction of a wooded ridge, a half day’s ride to Black Rock. “Not today, girl. We have one more stop to make, and then we’ll head back to ... that place.”

That place. From the time he had left, Casey had stopped thinking of Black Rock as home.

His thoughts now collected around another home. More than a month had passed, but he still saw a tall kid with eyes the color of a wild chestnut horse, pure lean muscle, making him watery every time he touched him, kissed him. In his mind now, Casey saw the brave smile when Chuck knew he would go, leaving emptiness that would dull over time.

That smile just heaped it on. One tiny reason out of million why he had changed his mind. Couldn’t leave. Not for good, anyway.

Casey had no doubt that Chuck found the note, his grandfather’s pocket watch. The picture in his brain had him lying in bed at night, imagining his reaction. Pissed as hell? Woeful as an abandoned puppy, longing for his return?

He only hoped the kid wouldn’t lose patience with a man who had made such a tangled mess of his life, not knowing it would take precious time and a miracle to pull it off.

The thick envelope burned in his leather saddle bag. “We have a stop in Canon, girl. Mr. Preston has a large deposit to make at Wegelin & Co.” First he needed to acquire a room at the Rosita Hotel. It would take several hours to become Mr. Preston, an older gentlemen with a neat beard, wider around the middle.

“C’mon, girl.” He tugged again, turning her to the east, down a grassy trail. Heading in a different direction, it wrenched a deeper question. In the past twenty-years, each decision was calculated, weighed prudently for risk against financial benefit. Plans were meant to be followed. That’s how he stayed alive. Now what the hell had he done?

-x-

“I don’t exactly fit into your plans, either, do I?” Chuck said, and Casey felt the hand on his forearm digging in, proving the kid had decent grip after all. “You can start by saying that.”

Casey leaned forward then, pushing him back against the fence, and why was he thinking the word hostage? “Say it,” he said in husky voice, stroking his arm, all the way down, and then he gripped his wrist with his own hot palm, as if they were bound together. In every way, they were now two hostages. “What … should I do?”

He could see Chuck look down, close his eyes.

“Just … keep going, okay?” he murmured. “Right now, that’s what I want.”

-x-

Lust had burned him in the past, Casey admitted that, but he’d never felt something else threaten to incinerate every rational part of him, all the careful shields he had constructed fall to the ground.

Until this kid. And now, there was no explanation or excuse for his foolishness, except one. Over the next three weeks, he’d methodically and meticulously clean out each of Liam’s accounts without leaving a scent of a paper trail. When each false account was funded, there was only a small matter to attend to after that.

Getting out of Liam’s grip meant John Casey had to die.

-x-

Evidently, those two jackasses who left him last night had a good time. Two hours? Three? From the sound of it, and the sheer amount of laughter and whooping coming from the saloon at the bottom of the hill, Chuck had begun to hope they would forget about him, get on their horses and ride away.

No such luck. Even shitfaced drunk and stumbling, they had managed to find him. By then, the rain had let up, and being as liquored up as they were, the men laid out their bedrolls and snored for the next six hours or so.

They woke up with bloodshot eyes and rotten attitudes. Breakfast for them meant emptying out the contents of their stomachs next to the trail. Those tangle-footed jerks still hadn’t thought of giving him anything to eat, but wisely, Chuck kept his mouth shut about it.

The small winding path took them to the top of a rise, where a sloped expanse of field provided a rolling glimpse of the forest backdrop, surrounded by green hills and aspens. In other circumstances, he may have found the wildflowers and fluttering leaves peaceful. But in this condition, it just made him angry at himself. Why had he let himself get vulnerable again? He’d set all the rules in place and it didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

Don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t tell anyone who you are or where you’re from. Don’t make friends – or – anything else. Yeah, that worked out great.

The kid huffed. It was getting to be evening after another day on the trail. He should be doing something to help himself, shouldn’t he?

Okay, maybe playing back in his head everything that happened since the afternoon his life was taken from him would be useful. Besides, it had to be more productive than, say, curling up in a fetal ball, screaming, or having another damn embarrassing panic attack.

Remember. Breathe.

He was going to have to be careful when they let him talk, so first, he should inventory what they knew. What they didn’t know.

Back at the farm, one of the things that kept him up at night for months, staring at the low pine beams over his head, had come true. They knew his name. They knew the young man he gave up and left behind in Boston. Which meant, they ... might know who his father was and what he wanted.

Geez, he was losing his mind. Of course they knew! He’d accepted that a few days ago, wouldn’t let it tear him apart. There were so many other emotions doing that.

A moo distracted him. Chuck couldn’t see, but they had to be near a pasture. Then Chuck heard the voices of the men, low, a note of eagerness, and they came to a stop.

“Boy,” one of them said. “Don’t wander off.” Laughter burnt his ears.

Wander off. Hilarious, these two. Chuck’s hands were tied to the saddle, he knew that much at least.

All right, that definitely was his breathing picking up. The opening between the blindfold and the gag over his mouth barely left enough room for his nose to poke through, but he told himself slow, breathe slowly. Suffocating his stupid self in a panic attack wouldn’t exactly be his brightest moment.

He cocked his head to listen. One of them said something, the other replied, he heard more laughter.

Chuck scowled in their direction irritably, despite the fact he couldn’t see a damn thing against the opaque fabric. Turning his ear towards the low rumble of their voices seemed to help him pick out a word or two. Something about a ranch, a compound where there would be warm beds, good food, and a reprieve before the next job. Not that it did any good, because none of it made sense to his bruised head.

He breathed out, in, kept each inhalation steady and even between his lips. Maybe he should go back to what he knew before this became humiliating – not that that barrier wasn’t breached days ago. For starters, he knew their boss’s name, right? Liam, the nasty Irish man with fists like iron and sharp-toed boots, had parted ways the first day, taking the smelly little one, Rudy, with him.

Here was another thing he knew. The blindfold they had so kindly tied over his face after lunch stifled any sense of direction, but he knew for the first three days, the horses had taken them west.

“Almost there, boy,” Rotted Teeth said. The leather of his straps creaked as he climbed back on the horse. “Fucking glad to get rid of you, too. Let you be someone else’s problem. Don’t know why they’re so damn interested in a Nancy from Boston, anyway.”

Someone gave a yank to his horse’s reins, and the soft clopping sound of hooves on the dirt-packed trail began again. Almost there? He had a fairly strong inclination that wherever it was, it wouldn’t be easier on him.

“ .... see a moon rising like that? Makes me want to visit that little red-headed whore in Pueblo. You ever have one, boy?”

“Umph.” Go to hell got lost in translation, he guessed. More drops of sweat sprung up on the back of his neck, stuck with the dirt, trickled down his middle. Knowing they were closer, his stomach felt virtually in shreds by this time.

Given the state of his mind and body in the beginning, he had little recollection of the first day. The constriction of pain around his ribcage had eased by the third morning, and he hoped to hell that meant the ribs weren’t broken. When he bit on his lip, he still tasted blood, and he knew the flesh of his cheek had to be blackened and bruised.

He turned his attention inside, because the only way to get out of this was to use his brain. What else did he know? He knew, after the first day, that when he feigned compliance, the beatings subsided. Well, if one didn’t count pushing and shoving, which he didn’t in this case, since he had tasted much worse by then. So pretending to go along with this, no matter how badly he wanted to lash out at them, would help him gather his energy. He was sure there would be an opportunity to run. And if he avoided being overwhelmed by painful emotions, if he kept them at bay long enough, they would simply go away.

Chuck’s throat swelled as he choked on a cough, not a sob. It came forth as suddenly as the rough tearing of the emotion, and just as quickly, he swallowed the strangled burst. No emotion. He couldn’t give into that. Or fear. He’d never trust anyone enough to be weak and torn open again.

-x-

“I think that the blind idea of me made you forget who I am,” Casey said in a cool, level voice. “You made up something special about me in that damn head of yours. Something that made you forget who I am. It was your way of coping … maybe convincing yourself you could be in my bed, without the burden that goes with it.” Casey snorted, not looking away. “We could hold each other together, was that your idea, kid?”

“I told you –” It hurt. It wasn’t the way Casey held him.

“Why would you tell yourself that, I had to ask myself,” and he felt one arm around his waist, his warm breath against his neck. “But here’s why. Because a good boy like you doesn’t find what he’s looking for in a man like me.”

-x-

As Casey unbuckled the strap of Vic’s saddle, he heard footsteps at the barn’s doorway. Figuring that it was one of Liam’s newest employees, one of the nameless imbeciles who had tried to strike up a friendship with him, Casey didn’t bother turning around. Ignoring whoever it was, he rummaged through the saddlebag for his deposit receipts until he heard the man behind him move in closer, clear his throat.

“Laddie. I expected you here by the afternoon. Don’t tell me you ran into trouble?” Liam spoke placidly, without accusation, yet Casey knew he expected a plausible explanation. “Any of Connolly’s associates meet up with you?”

Calmly tucking the slips back into his saddlebag, Casey stayed focused on the saddle, taking both ends to slip it from Vic’s back. “No one saw me, if that’s what concerns you.” Hearing himself made Casey suppress a cringe at the bit of cynical impatience he had let out. In a lighter tone, he continued, “No one of any importance, anyway.”

“I see,” Liam responded with a note of caution. “Trouble?”

“Only a few squatters who decided to take it upon themselves to build a cabin near Hardscrabble Pass.” By now, Casey was sure Liam was watching him with keen eyes, so he didn’t look over his shoulder when he slung the saddle over the stall’s top rail. “It seems that they had been there awhile, too, based upon the lumber they had cleared.”

“Did they need convincing to leave the property, considering Black Rock’s ... cooperative relationship with Union Pacific? That we’ll have majority ownership?”

Casey pitched some hay into Vic’s stall before taking a blanket to wipe her down. “They were ... reluctant at first, but I was able to enlighten them.” He glanced towards the stall’s gate, where Liam stood, resting his elbow on the rail. “I doubt if they’ll be back.”

“Anything else ... I should be made aware of, then?”

Your accounts in La Junta and Silver Cliff have been emptied out? And you won’t even know about it until you have no chance of finding me. Correction. Us.

“Nothing,” Casey uttered. He flung the saddle blanket over his shoulder and began brushing her coat. “No sign of double dealings. Maybe he’s still stinging from the scandal. But being caught bribing congressmen and the bankruptcy has given him the jitters. I don’t think he’s ready to go through with it.”

“Mm. It will happen.” Liam picked up a piece of straw and pinched it between his fingers, rolled it, and he put on his company smile. “We’ll be very wealthy men.”

Casey pushed back the look of scorn by sheer force of will before he turned around. Black Rock already had more wealth than ten men could spend in a lifetime. What had the money done to fill the empty hole in him?

That only brought a bigger question.

How in the hell could ten days of his life, living under the spell of that kid, make him need an answer to that.

“Did the vultures get all the supper?” Casey asked, slipping Vic an apple from a bin next to the gate, “or did Jo manage to save some for me?”

It was odd to Casey that Liam didn’t move. He stayed at the gate and whether it was purposeful or not, he blocked the exit. “Before you go back to the house, I have one more job for you.” He flicked his eyes towards a set of stairs that ran to the second floor of the barn. Most of the upper farm building was wide open to the rafters, except for two lofts that ran along the east and west walls, connected by a walkway overhead. “Follow me.”

Liam picked up the kerosene lamp by the handle, and when it was brought closer to him, his nose and eye sockets created black-holed shadows on his face. “Are you coming, Johnnie?” he inquired.

Casey darted a glance at the staircase, but Liam had already turned his attention away and began walking, knowing he would follow him to the stairs. Good Christ, he did trust his instincts, and something up there made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

The barn on Black Rock’s ranch served not only as an outbuilding for the horses and cows, but a place to store the stolen merchandise from the warehouse Liam leased to Union Pacific. Train car haulers were unloaded outside of Denver, where the narrow gauge track gave access to Utah Northern Railroad. Skimming from the haulers and moving the wares to Black Rock for resale was just another way to shit on the system.

Nevertheless, the sense that trouble was up those stairs sparked a fire in his lower belly at each step. As he followed Liam, his hand reflexively fell inside his coat, touching his holster.

“What’s up here that I haven’t seen before?” Casey asked, just as Liam came to the landing on the second floor.

“This way,” Liam remarked, signaling that Casey should follow him across the suspended catwalk, leading to the storage rooms and an office. “You’ll see.”

The secrecy had Casey glaring at the back of his head. “Here’s another one of my instincts. If it needs to be this mysterious, we shouldn’t go near it.”

“If it means we can motivate one of Union Pacific’s investors to put pressure on Connolly, I believe it will be worth the risk.” Liam led them along the narrow hallway and halted at the doorway to one of the compartmental rooms. “And I also believe this will provide the proper motivation.”

Casey gave him a quizzical look. “Which investor?”

As an answer, Liam turned the knob and pushed the door open, allowing Casey to peer inside. “This boy’s father,” he said. Eyes never leaving Casey, he tilted his head towards the center of the dimly-lit area. “Come in, Johnnie. I want you to meet him ... since he is your next job.”

The pose, the kid on his knees, the way recognition changed the look in his eyes, instantly gutted him from esophagus to liver, and Casey knew exactly what his presence here did to Chuck. A gag covered the lower half of Chuck’s face, but his dark eyes, which Casey knew to be beautiful and large, blew wide as an owl’s, anxiously scanning him before he let out a muffled yell.

Suddenly, like a brick to the head, the room stopped spinning and cold logic took hold. Did Liam know? Was this a set-up? Casey pivoted around to him and saw Liam’s gaze rest curiously on his schooled features. And years of reading Liam’s face told Casey the most impossible, dumbest piece of bad luck had hit him, because Liam didn’t have an inkling what the kid meant to him.

His boss took another step into the room and motioned for Casey to follow. “I need you to be his ... caretaker for the next five days or so. It will give you a reason to stay close to the ranch this week, hm?”

In that moment, when Liam’s eyes traveled over him, Casey confirmed he had roused Liam’s suspicion with the recent jobs that took him longer than usual. This was his way of keeping him under his boot heel.

“He doesn’t look like much,” Casey said, keeping his voice mild as he propped his backside against a barrel, bracing his hands at his sides. “Why him?”

“His father’s looking for him, and until he gets here, I’d rather keep this quiet.” Liam slanted a glance at Chuck, his black eyes turning brittle. “Misappropriation of merchandise is one thing, but human trafficking to close a deal may lift a few brows ... if there’s wind of it. We wouldn’t want to harm Black Rock’s sterling reputation by a simple misstep, would we?”

“Why is the father important?”

“He holds the biggest purse string. It seems the prospect of returning his son to him was enough to move the negotiations forward. He’ll be our bargaining chip.”

Up until this second, Casey had avoided meeting Chuck’s eyes again, telling himself that the ability to assume nonchalance would protect him. But standing there under the magnification of Liam’s shrewd gaze, he gave the kid a disinterested once-over.

Chuck was breathing hard, nostrils flaring as he swayed on his knees. The kid’s hands were tied behind his back, and his left cheek appeared badly bruised, already turning to light bluish-purple. Dirt and sweat clung to his clothes, and Casey could see his shirt was torn at the side, revealing more bruises along his lean ribcage and flat stomach.

It felt the same as a tidal wave, clawing at him, taking him out to sea. He wanted to choke, he wanted to put a fist through a wall, or Liam’s face, but that move would only get them killed.

God hated him. It just confirmed it again, showed it by bringing the kid here. It had to be the one thing that would make his plans go up in smoke.

“Youph fking ba’tard!” Chuck barked through the gag.

All right. So the good news was that he still had enough energy to talk, Casey thought grimly.

With a smothered groan, Chuck fell back on his butt, and it took only a heartbeat to see he had done it on purpose. Getting his legs out from under him, he lashed out riotously at Casey, kicking like a wild colt before the harness could tether it down.

“Easy, laddie,” Liam told the kid, hunkering down to his level. “Easy, now. You shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds you, eh?” The large Irishman turned to Casey and raised a brow. “The boys warned that the kid still has plenty of feistiness in him – tsk, tsk.” He pointed his onyx eyes at Chuck. “Still fighting, are you? And here I had thought I had beaten it out of you.”

“Goph!”

It only took the near imperceptible clench of Liam’s fist for Casey to pick up on the fact he intended to try it again. Why he would hurt a kid like this, and why he had dragged him here in the first place, Casey had no clue. His last scrap of sanity told him one thing, however. If he didn’t intervene in some way, Chuck would have another bruise or a broken arm to go with the rest of his injuries.

“Looks like the little shit meant that for me,” Casey said. “I’ll handle it.”

“I believe you’re exactly right.” Liam rested his hands on his knees, straightened. “He’s your problem now, Johnnie. Start by making sure he knows who’s boss.”

As Casey got down on his haunches, there was no longer a way to avoid it. Had to look in his eyes. “I’ve seen your kind, kid ...” he said to him, his voice low, steady. “You’re a bucking ... fractious colt. But I’ve broken ones more ornery than you.” After he said it, Casey delivered a weak-knuckled slap to Chuck’s unbruised cheek. Pain tenfold traveled through him, though the kid would never believe him again.

The skin to skin contact made a sharp cracking sound. Chuck’s head snapped to the side and when he looked up, his dark eyes met his, fighting the sting of hurt. Not the cheekbone, already reddened; that was nothing when compared to the sting behind his brown eyes. They carried enough misery to break a man’s heart, swimming with hatred, the acknowledgement of a betrayal.

The promise Casey had broken, right here in this moment, already felt like a bullet between the eyes. It was there, back at the farm, in the quiet peace that he had said it. Never to hurt the kid. And now he had just gone and done that very thing.

-x-

Casey got up from the table after supper and came back to the barn. The kerosene lantern he held threw off the only light, the rest of the cavernous place bathed in darkness. Closing the door behind him, he felt around the outside of the burlap bag he carried. The scraps of food he had taken from the table, wrapped in a cloth napkin, would have to suffice for now, until he could come back later tonight while the others slept.

He had to at least say it. Tell him it was the braided knot of fate that brought him here, and that he nothing to do with his captivity.

Casey’s eyes traveled upward, and he hesitated at the foot of the stairs. Why was he ... okay, dammit, afraid to go up there?

He damn well knew why.

He pictured the kid, upstairs in the small room, sitting in the shadows among the barrels, a few wooden crates and a bucket, which Casey guessed he was given to piss in. That was it.

Chuck had been brave, but now in his solitude, burdensome thoughts and fear would swirl. Casey could almost hear them overhead, like woken ghosts.

Afraid, because tonight, Chuck hated him, and Casey couldn’t fault him for that. But he hoped he could tear through the wall, that the kid wouldn’t turn this into a combat, though he knew there was no chance of that.

“Goddammit.” He growled at himself for being a fool. You fucking coward.

When he got up the stairs, Casey would have to accept he had lost something.

Hell, he never had a family, not really, nothing until him. Not just the kissing and touching, though that filled a hole in him, but deeper than that. The way the kid looked at him like he meant something in this world, even in the simplest moments. The way the air around him just seemed warmer and right when his lover was in the same room, sharing the same house.

Since he never had a part of him that could express an emotion, Casey lowered his head, swore softly, and then he did one thing he hadn’t done in close to twenty-five years. He fell to his knees. Sinking down until they hit the dirt and straw. Sliding his hat from his head, he cursed the God that had let him stray this far, and cursed him again for the reminder that it may have been too late to change course.

With his forehead resting on a pine spindle, he looked down, and as luck would have it, the first thing he focused on was the hand that had slapped the kid. For once, it seemed foreign, disconnected. All the hurt it had doled out, but never like this.

Casey wanted to take it back. Let Chuck forget about this, let him bury his face in the side of his neck, his nose in the line of his soft hair and skin, smell the wood, grass, outdoors, warmth, all so good.

Slowly, he turned his palm over, stretching his fingers. Maybe now it was gone. The hope he had. Unconditional love from someone who accepted and wanted him for all he was, ruined in one brutal slap.

Shifting on his knees, the hard-packed dirt digging in, he took a deep breath. Casey couldn’t help the resentment, hitting the back of his throat. Damn little idiot. The kid never told him who he was. He had to hear it from Liam’s lips, between drags of his cigarette. The only son of one of the wealthiest families in Boston, or for that matter, the East Coast establishment. A descendant of the earliest colonists, Boston Brahmin born, a lineage that included presidents, generals, ambassadors.

Casey squinted up the staircase and gradually pulled himself from the ground, dusted himself off. “I’m sure you have plenty of questions for me, brown eyes, but I have one for you,” he muttered under his breath. “Who the hell is Charles Francis Adams, and why is he so far from home?”

Why was he here tonight?

Well, Casey only knew this. He had to figure out if the words he needed to say even existed in a language, enough for the kid to understand.

I didn’t lie to you when I left, city boy.

I had to get my life in shape. It was the only way to deserve you.

Casey shook his head and grabbed the railing in one hand, holding it so his knuckles whitened, so he wouldn’t be weak and fall to the ground again. Damn fraidy-cat, he thought, and began climbing the stairs.

Though it made him a bit of a hypocrite – okay, fine, a helluva a whopper of one - it was time to get answers, and Chuck had nowhere to run this time. Casey had tried to get to the kid’s past, only to have his questions deflected without a passing thought. Who understood more than him the need to leave things buried and left unsaid? And look at the shit it got them into now.

He could already hear Chuck flinging angry words at him, kicking back like a stubborn mule.

You don’t know me the way you think you do .... You’ll never know me now ....

“Want to bet?” Casey mumbled. You still have no idea who you’re dealing with, kid.

-x-End Sins Fell Angels Chapter One-x-


	2. Chapter Two

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Two

-x-

“Not hungry, Johnnie-boy?” Liam’s voice hinted at meanings beneath the question, which meant he had been watching. “I’ve never seen you coming off the trail and not ready to eat whatever is in front of you.”

“The boy,” Casey remarked, the rigidity in his facial muscles returning, realizing he had been sloppy for a minute or two. “It seems dangerous, that’s all. Some risks aren’t meant to be taken.” He shrugged, digging his fork into the meat. “Scrawny kid looks like he’s not worth the trouble.”

“Your instincts are good, Johnnie. I’ve always trusted them,” Liam said with an easy grin. “But this time, looks can be deceiving. I think you’re being overly cautious. Sometimes it’s necessary to take a risk like this one ... in order to attain the reward.”

Casey reached for the salt, quietly contemplating. To hell with it. In truth, he was throwing caution to the wind by poking around in a place he shouldn’t be – after all, Liam didn’t take kindly to men who questioned his decisions - but he had to push.

“If the father is the man you say he is -”

“I know it for a fact.”

“Then is there a reason a man like him will barter with us? Stoop low enough to do business with Black Rock?”

Liam regarded him before he carefully set his fork down next to his plate. “You forget sometimes, don’t you laddie?” he said, unsmiling. “To the outside world, the eastern seaboard, cities in the west, Black Rock is an upstanding partner in the railroad companies, the mining ventures, banking .... I think the question you meant to ask was why a man like Charles Whitney Adams would not want to engage in a business transaction with Black Rock.” When Liam reached into his jacket and pulled out his lighter, Casey could see his face was hard and strained, unattractive even in the candlelight at the dining table. “Especially when we hold something that appears to be quite dear to him.”

There. It was precarious to pursue it, but finally Casey heard the opening. Cognizant that he had been caught pushing his food around his plate, brooding, a few minutes ago, he let the words sit there while he helped himself to the mashed potatoes. It would be just as serious of an error to appear too eager.

“’Quite dear?’ What’s his story?” Casey settled back, tilted his head toward the direction of the barn. “How does he fit into the deal?”

Liam arched a brow at him and tossed back a swallow of his red wine. Casey never took to the stuff, preferring a smooth scotch any time, so it didn’t surprise him when Liam didn’t offer a glass. “Mr. Adams holds the lion’s share of UP stock. He usually chooses to be a silent partner. He trusts Connolly and the rest of the board to make judicious decisions. And I must say, he’s done quite well so far.”

“So the kid’s father was your way in?”

“Always to the point, laddie.” Liam chuckled and picked up the bottle, pouring himself another. “I needed to find the right man to ... convince Connolly we are serious about our offer, and that he should take it.

“If I recall, he seemed fairly reluctant to do so.” Hotly pissed and guns blazing was more like it, but why bring it up now? The past was done.

“I wanted to find out more about his investors, see if anyone could lean on him,” Liam explained, absently running fingers along the side of the glass. “At first, I thought Adams was out of the question; he preferred to stay in the background. Until I learned the story of his son.” Liam clacked his tongue in mock regret. “Unfortunate, really, for a man like that to lose his only boy.”

Casey did his best to look disinterested. “Stories are sometimes just that. Wild tales.”

“Not this time. Damaged goods, but he’ll get him back.”

Under the table, Casey felt his hand automatically lock into a fist. “What do you mean?”

“We found that Mr. Adams had no interest in using his influence to sway Connolly. Or UP, for that matter, though he easily could.” Without troubling to look at him, Liam rose from the dining room table, setting another log on the fire. “It seemed the man couldn’t be bothered, concentrating most of his efforts in other business ... and personal endeavors.”

“Other? Like what?”

Liam used the poker to adjust the firewood, sending up a burst of sparks. “Suffice to say, laddie, it would be easier to tell you where he doesn’t have a hand. He’s a very powerful man, secretive. The Brahmin class is highly discreet, if nothing else.”

“I am familiar with the term,” Casey observed, taking a bite.

“Smart boy. Of course you are.” Liam returned to his chair at the other end of the table. Leaning back, he reached into his jacket as he had a million times after dinner to retrieve the cigarette case. Instead, he took out a yellowed envelope. “The reason he had no desire to intervene was that it seemed he had ... lost his son last year.”

Casey turned his face to the fire, watching the flames begin to consume the log. “Lost? If that’s the kid – and that’s a big if - he appears to be alive and kicking.”

“Very much alive,” Liam agreed. He tapped the envelope on the tablecloth, mouth twisting a bit at the anticipation of retelling the plot. “Mr. Adams had set his efforts to retrieving the boy, secretly of course. Can’t upset the gentry with a scandal, now, could we?”

Casey hid his heavy swallow by taking another sip. So far, Chuck’s story, the tiny scrap he knew at least, seemed to match Liam’s tale. “You’re saying his boy left without leaving so much as a trace. Even without telling the old man to kiss his ass.”

“Maybe the kid’s got balls of a bull,” Liam said, laughing a little. “It seems he cleaned out a bank account of his own, bought a train ticket, and left like a thief in the middle of the night.”

“Boys run away from home all the time,” Casey pointed out. Hadn’t he struck out on his own in his fifteenth year?

Now Liam did reach for the cigarette case. “Not boys who will inherit millions of dollars. Not boys with Harvard degrees who have a place of prominence in society.”

Casey forced himself to curl his hand loosely on his knee, fighting an unpleasant knot tying up his gut like a coil. It had only taken him a moment to process the rationale, and why the young man who made his heart jump was now up to his eyeballs in trouble.

“So you’re using him as a pawn,” Casey said, matter-of-factly. “To get the father to negotiate with Connolly. You’ll return him when the deal is brokered.”

Liam took a drink and smiled as he set the glass down. “A fair trade for all interested parties, eh, Johnnie-boy?”

Casey sent him an arch look. He had crossed forty and was well past being his boy. Yet his curiosity was burning to fill in the blanks that Chuck never would. This time, he’d hear it.

“How did you know it was him? Hell, for all you know, this could be anyone’s lost pup.”

“It’s him.” Liam slid his ashtray closer and gave a quick jerk of his head towards the barn. “The father did quite a bit of digging. He found out that the boy got on a train in Omaha, and the last trace of evidence was a receipt for a ticket to California at the station in Lincoln.”

“California? Then how can he be the one?”

“Apparently, one of the clerk’s behind the counter swore an awkward tall kid bought another ticket west. To Sterling, but under another name that the man couldn’t recall. It appears the trail dried up after that.”

Yes, he believed the kid had done all of that, but why would he go to all this trouble to escape? There were other questions digging at him. None he could ask now.

“Sounds like a man who doesn’t want to be found,” Casey said. “Some things hidden don’t need to be dug up.”

“Profound observation, laddie, and normally one I live by. But in this case, the rules changed.” Liam’s eyes briefly caught the light from the candles, gleaming with wicked mischief as he rolled the cigarette between his fingers. “The boy is crazy, the father said. A head full of wild dreams, hopelessly irrational. A fool like that needs to be home, under the control of his family. We’re doing him a favor, John. We are.”

“That’s what you meant by damaged goods. He’s not right in the head?”

“Mad as a hatter, they say.” Liam chuckled at the thought.

Casey’s hands clenched again, then opened as he let out a breath. It pissed him off to no end to have Chuck labeled senseless by idiots who didn’t know him. Sure, the kid had wacky visions, but was he crazy? There had to be more to Chuck’s story, more than crushing the dreams of a person that a family is supposed to love. The whole ugly vision of it made Casey remember that he felt the same way until a few months ago.

That was before the kid kicked a hole through him, reminding Casey the part of him that could dream wasn’t dead yet.

“How do you know it’s him? Isn’t the West littered with a million people who don’t want to be found?”

The ebony-eyed Irishmen shot a smile at him. “The letters. This is just one,” he said, lifting the envelope he had been creasing with his fingers. “The moonstruck boy kept them in his cabin. I guess he didn’t know the cardinal rule of breaking all ties with the past.”

Casey suppressed a wince. For the first time in his life, he had chosen not to push the boundary and search through the kid’s belongings. It would’ve violated the thin, fragile strand of trust he had managed build. Well, to dust and hell that went. He could’ve done something. Maybe this was his fault.

“Johnnie?” Liam lifted a brow. “You look like Jo’s dinner disagrees with you. Is that it, boyo?”

Casey wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin and set it next to his plate. “Nothing a night in my own bed won’t solve.” Working out a muscle kink in one of his shoulders, he groaned under his breath, “I’m getting too old for this kind of shit.”

“You say that, but look at you, laddie.” Liam waved a hand. “Still look so much like the staunch young colt you were when I found you. Standing up to the mob, all piss and vinegar, you were.”

“Like the one up there, if my shin has anything to say about it. The little mule can kick.”

“Then you better tame him before the father gets here,” Liam said, looking bored as he ground out the cigarette in the ashtray. “A telegram arrived from Mr. Adams today in response to my offer. Suddenly, he’s ... eager to assist in our negotiations. It said he’s leaving from the Boston and Main depot tomorrow, and that we can expect his arrival within five to six days.”

As Casey brought his attention to his scotch, he knew in such simple terms, his back was now to the wall. Every detail carefully stitched into place, a giant crazy quilt, had to be unwound. After that, he had five days, tops, to get the pieces sewn back together. The money, the father, his own untimely death....

First things first, and probably the most impossible to fathom, he had to win back the kid’s trust, get him to open up in every way, even though Chuck had to be scared as hell ... and hated him.

Casey thumbed his plate to the side. “Under normal circumstances, I could’ve assumed to be the father, and you wouldn’t have -”

“These aren’t normal circumstances, Johnnie,” Liam broke in quietly, stashing away his Union Jack cigarette case. “Don’t kid yourself ... and besides, you still seem to be stinging a bit from the last incident.”

“I was set up. Just like you.”

“And I believe you, Johnnie. But for now, your job is the boy. Watch him. Keep him out of sight and compliant. We don’t want anything to happen that would make the father change his mind. We need him ... properly motivated to represent our interest in the sale.”

The kid. Motivated. Liam had no idea. Casey was quite certain Chuck-Bartowski-Francis-Adams-whoever-the-hell-he-was could give any man a run for his money. It worked on him, didn’t it?

“I’m sure he can be ... encouraged,” Casey said, biting down on the inside of his mouth. “With the right tools.”

“The boys said he’s a mouthy little bastard, too, so try not to kill him, eh? I know you have no patience for that kind of thing.”

“You should know this as well,” Casey said with stiff courtesy. “I have no patience for my skills being questioned.” He drew back, squared his shoulders, and out of his pocket he yanked falsified bank records, done up nicely by a German, a teacher with false teeth who he had met in La Junta. “I don’t sting from anything. The Connolly job is behind me.”

Poking a rattlesnake was risky business, but that didn’t stop him from taking a stick in his hand from time to time, because this was bullshit.

Liam’s eyes locked on him, making no acknowledgement of Casey’s challenge. “Fair point, laddie,” he said at last, taking the bank envelope. “But I can’t trust anyone. It’s just not in me. Not now, not ever.”

“I haven’t kept secrets,” Casey lied.

And he never would have. Not until he met a chocolate-eyed kid on a night the rain sliced the sky sideways, thunder and heart booming. It would always haunt him, he reckoned, because the last thing a man like him deserved was to find a port in a storm.

Liam lounged back in his chair, hands folded across his middle. “Perhaps the scars stop me from seeing a man as he is, Johnnie.” His face creased into a forced smile, attempting to diffuse the bubble of tension, and he came around the table to lay his huge bear paws on Casey’s shoulders. “If there’s anyone I’ve let in close, it’s you.”

Uncomfortable with the physical contact, Casey climbed to his feet and took his hat from a coat rack next to an oak secretary desk, carved with scrolls. “I have a few chores to take care of before bed,” he said, but he as he reached the doorway, Casey turned around to face him. “Liam?”

When the kid fought him tonight, spitting and kicking like a trapped cat, there was one question he had to be able to answer.

“What is it, John?”

“You said the trail ran dry. His father couldn’t find him, and spent a year trying.”

“That’s true,” his boss confirmed, placing the envelopes in the desk and closing it up. “What’s your point?”

“Then how was it, after all that time, you were able to find him?”

Nodding at his reflection in the mirror over the desk, Liam met his questioning eyes with a look of smug satisfaction.

When he told him, Casey at once hated the fact he would be the one to tell the kid of his fatal blunder. That he had to make him realize it had nothing to do with falling in love with the wrong man.

-x-

After Rotted Teeth and Scar Nose tossed him onto the floor, making his bruises only sing louder, Chuck stretched his legs to see if he could touch anything. His foot smacked something hard, making him jolt. Where was he?

He listened. A faint creak of wood, a box opening. A minute later, he jolted again when he heard the sharp thwack of a hammer and nail.

What were they doing? God! Since the two imbecile jailers hadn’t bothered to take the blindfold off of him yet, he could only guess what new version of fun they were preparing. He would’ve asked, but the jackasses left him gagged as well, lying in a heap, and he could only feel the floorboards moving as they set to work.

When the racket stopped, the kid lifted his head to listen, trying to keep this worn out nerves from jangling through his bones. The blindfold came off roughly, making Chuck shake his head to clear his eyes.

“Welcome home, Nancy,” one of them grumbled, patting his cheek hard enough to sting. Even so, the kid was done showing them they could still hurt him, so he threw his head back and glared up at a face full of rust-colored teeth.

“Yeah? Not to your liking, rich boy?” the man asked, getting in a toe jab to the ribs. He put his hands on his holster and pretended to turn an appraising eye around the room. “It’s not the fancy mansion you grew up in, now, is it, boy? I bet you don’t like it much.”

“Or I bet you like spending your time with fancy gents back east, eh?” Nose offered up, grinning in a way that made the kid wonder if he had erred by not naming that one Rotted Teeth.

The other man bent down and reached around him, testing the bonds that were digging into his wrists. “Well, that’s tough shit, because you need to get used to these swell accommodations. You’re gonna be here for a while.”

Here? The kid tipped his chin, scanning what looked to be nothing more than a storage shed. His ‘swell accommodations’ included a couple of large wooden barrels along one wall, some crates, a sawhorse table, and empty feed bags. Oh, and a bucket. Nice.

“Mmm,” Chuck managed, wincing when the man pulled again before he rose to his feet. Squinting up at a window, the only source of light, he immediately saw that the idiots had used the hammer and a few loose boards to block out most of the sunlight. Only a few strands leaked through the cracks between the slats, reflecting off of moving specks of dust and hay.

It was getting harder not to freak out. Especially when he had to acknowledge the boards were not to keep the world out, but to keep him locked inside.

“C’mon, Jacob. Leave the little puke alone.” Rotted Teeth, pushing his hat back on his head, nodded towards the door. “Had enough of him, with his bitching and kicking. Bet there’s some whiskey we can rustle up.”

Jacob shook his head at Chuck and shoved him down, not that he had tried to do more than lift his shoulders or adjust his back off the hard floor. “Stay,” he ordered him. “Not a noise out of you.”

Noise? Um, the gag, you assholes? Chuck heard the door slam shut, and then the metallic rattling of a key in a lock. As if he could unlock it? Like this? Those smelly jerks could go to hell.

Okay, now what?

The kid rested his temple against one of the floor boards and let out a suffering breath from his nostrils. It wasn’t comfortable, being on his side, but having his arms pinned under him while he lay on his back was worse. His wrists were tied to the log post that went from the floor to the rafters, one of the support beams of the building’s structure, he supposed, whatever it was. Funny, no one had bothered to share that detail.

After trying to loosen the rope or move, he gave up with a huff. His head on the floor, he listened, hearing his breath heaving, his heart hammering. When he closed his eyes and focused on nothing but sound, he heard other life around him. A low moo of a cow, the neigh of horses rose from below. Well, that verified a few things. He was in a barn, and he was on the second floor; a loft or, hell, he didn’t know. Chuck only knew he had to find a way out of there.

That was yesterday. At least, it felt like yesterday. Things were a little blurry by now.

Absorbed by the last lingering slivers of light though the window, he swallowed down the jagged ache in his throat. It wasn’t from the apple and bread at lunch, the pain when he took too deep of a breath.

It was from seeing him, standing over the kid like he had a few hours ago, and knowing he had been stupid enough to let the wrong man crash through him, let in a mistake that wasn’t meant to be.

-x-

Chuck told himself he was an idiot for allowing his brain to shut down long enough to sleep. In his defense, he’d been overwhelmed by the fucked-up crazy last five days of his life, and finally coming face to face with the man who did this to him had exceeded his last bit of stamina.

It was dark now. How long had he been out?

The creak of footsteps on stairs made the kid lift his head, a ripple of sudden awareness crawling through him. Someone was coming. And it was no secret who that would be.

Not able to squirm away – because seriously, where would he go? – he watched the door, listening for the key. Aching and bruised, he tried to keep the harsh breaths through the gag shallow, steady. Otherwise, it hurt too much. All of it.

Just as he suspected, the boots stopped at the door and the jingling of the keys told him it was a time of reckoning. Without knowing if he would ever see him again, Chuck had rehearsed every word in his head. He was torn between wanting to tell him off, here and now, or needing to see him, even if it was for the last time.

John Casey stepped into the tiny room, a kerosene lantern splashing light and shadows to the corners. Chuck saw him look down at him and frown, and though the kid avoided his face, he was hyperaware of the track Casey’s gaze took, his blue eyes giving a warm burn over his skin.

“Damn,” he murmured. “You’re a sight, brown eyes.”

Instead of bending down to help him, he walked over to the sawhorse table and emptied out a burlap seed sack. Objects clattered, but his wide back blocked everything.

Didn’t matter what was in there, Chuck decided. None of it. His intention was to un-paint his memory of the man who tore him apart. And until he could tell him that point blank, the kid purposely kept his eyes lowered, not daring to look into his.

It was impossible, just a heartbeat later, when Casey got down on his haunches next to him and took hold of his shirt collar.

“I need you to sit up.”

Not gentle, just a hoarse command.

Chuck didn’t move.

“You’re still not trainable, I see.” Casey shook his head and used the handful of Chuck’s shirt to pull him up unceremoniously to a sitting position. “There. Stay.”

Chuck kept his eyes hidden, head bowed, feeling the pole where his hands were tied pressing against his back. Though tempted to kick the big dick head, he bent his knees close to his chest, knowing the pain lessened this way.

“You need to look at me.” Casey’s hand came into view, strong sure fingers sliding around his chin to turn his head forward, up. Chuck could see that his eyes searched his face, taking inventory of the black and blue marks across his cheek. “They’re obviously better fighters than you,” Casey said. “Too bad for them, I’m not as easy.”

What? Was that supposed to be something disguised as sympathy? That was the last thing he wanted. Chuck stilled, lulling Casey to think he could relax his grip - and the kid jerked his head away.

Or tried to at least, because Casey seemed to anticipate the surliness. “Not yet, city boy. I just want to look at you. Let’s see.” Casey grasped his cheeks between his fingers. “Ah, holy Christ.” Laying his other hand on the side of Chuck’s face, Casey’s thumb touched his cheek bone, tracing the sensitive flesh up to his temple. “They did this,” he said.

Yeah? The gag prevented him from telling Casey it was all his doing. He could burn in hell for every bruise. “Fuff off,” Chuck breathed, pulling his head away from his touch. Get the message?

Casey’s blue eyes narrowed. “You’re pissed. I get it. Right now, you hate me. And I know that as soon as I take this off, you’re going to tell me how much you want me to rot in hell.” When his fingers grazed Chuck’s jaw, they paused to draw over the tight cloth between the kid’s teeth. “Is that it?”

Mind reader. “Uh-mmm!” Chuck eked out, hoping the nuance of you’re damn right, I will got through to him. He emphasized his argument by whipping out a leg at the larger man, not caring what he hit, just needing to hurt.

A solid wallop got him in the shin. “Easy, cupcake.” Casey wrapped an arm around Chuck’s knees, tight as an iron band, and held on until the kid put a halt to his useless kicking. “Easy ... not gonna hurt you.”

More than he already had, Chuck wanted to fling back at him. Thanks to the gag, he had to show his displeasure by drawing his brows down, glaring at him.

“Always your first inclination, isn’t it,” Casey said, huskiness in his voice as he drew a thumb over Chuck’s stubbly cheek. “To fight me. But the fact that you hate me ... well, kid, I’m not ready to hear you say it ... yet. I have to say my piece first.”

Chuck swung his head to the side, focusing on anything but his sharp angled jaw, his sky blue eyes. Fuck him. He didn’t have to listen to anything.

“Yeah? Fine.” Casey swiped his thumb one more time, gently, and let his hand drop to his knee. “I have no right to demand any more from you, and it’s certainly fair to expect less. But when I tell you what I have to say, I need you to believe me.”

Seriously, did he hear that right? Did that swindler, kneeling in front of him, just ask for his trust?

“Nnph.” The kid pulled back, refusing to make eye contact.

“I had nothing to do with this.” Casey said it firmly, bringing his face down to get him to look. “I haven’t breathed a word of your existence. To anyone. There. Now you have the truth. And that’s the only thing I can offer you right now.”

“Huh!” Chuck got out. The truth? Liar.

Casey had to know the last thing Chuck wanted was to be touched, but the larger man reached out anyway, caressing his nape, gingerly testing a bruised area on his neck.

“I’m taking this off,” he said, then slipped his finger under the gag. “I should tell you, no one cares if they hear you yell, but if you tell me to go fuck myself, I may retie it. Got that? Now stand up.”

As Casey raised him, a hand sliding around his shoulders, they faced each other, knee to knee, chest to chest. Holding him, he then pulled the gag down and began working on the rope at his wrists.

“God,” Chuck faltered, licking his dry lips, feeling the rope fall to the floor. He brought his hand up to rub it over his mouth, his jaw, anything to get it working again. He had so damn much to say.

“Let me guess,” Casey said. “You have your doubts, and you’re about to tell me -.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“Good to know you’re feeling better,” Casey said, patting his cheek.

“Better!” Chuck noticed his voice was croaky after being gagged, but he barreled on. “I’m – I’m not - where the hell am I?”

“Later, tough stuff.” Casey pressed him back against the post and walked over to the table. When he turned to him, he was unscrewing a cap from a canteen. “Drink it.”

Needing the water more than he needed to tell him off, at least for this second, Chuck took the canteen and put it to his lips. He drank it in, until he felt it running down his cheeks, down the column of his throat, mixing with dirt and sweat. Thirst had never made him dizzy, but he felt himself swaying on his feet.

Casey grabbed his elbow and took the canteen. “Not like that. Keep drinking that way, and it will all come back on you. Give yourself a minute. Then, slowly, kid.”

Great. He hated his brain at times like this, because hearing the deep gravel in his voice, the kid remembered it wasn’t the first time he had given him that advice. The first time involved a bathtub, wet slippery skin, scrubbing every part of each other ... and he really shouldn’t think of that now.

“Black Rock,” Casey said.

“What?”

“You asked where you are. Black Rock.”

“Can you ... I don’t know, start with something that makes sense?”

Aside from an eye roll, Casey answered by moving one of the barrels across the floor, pushing it up against the post. “Sit. You’re not ready for this.”

Chuck’s numb mouth formed an O. “For ... what?”

He saw the man drinking him in for a moment. Then his captor smirked. “Close your mouth, kid. Not that.”

Did he just insinuate ..? That big friggin’ hornswoggler!

The kid’s mouth snapped shut. Brushing it off as a hallucination, and God knows he had the right, Chuck plopped down on the barrel and slumped against the post, long legs dangling but not quite touching the floor.

“Here. Catch.”

“Catch what? Whoa.” Though Casey tossed it in a slow underhand arc, Chuck had to blame his shaky reflexes for nearly dropping the apple. After a bobble or two, he rolled it in his hand, asking himself if he wanted anything that came from Casey’s pocket.

“It’s not poison.”

“Thank Vic for me,” Chuck muttered, but he took a bite. He’d never be able to throw a punch if he starved to death. So he took another. The room filled with the sound of annoyingly loud crunches as he polished it off without stopping, nibbling around the core when there was nothing left.

During the spectacle, Casey leaned a hip against the table and folded his arms over his chest, quietly watching him devour the fruit. He narrowed his eyes, seemingly distracted or amused when Chuck licked the juice from his fingers.

“Feel better?” Casey asked, obviously uncomfortable with the whole idea of domestic servitude.

“Oh, just peachy from my end.”

Casey rewarded the stink-eye with an exasperated grunt. “You need more water. Here.”

“I need out of here too, but I don’t see you offering that up,” Chuck said, taking the canteen without looking over at him. “Don’t want to disappoint your boss, do you?”

“I forgot how surly you get when you’re hungry.” Casey pointed his chin at the canteen. “Take a drink. Then I’ll have something else for you.”

Chuck blinked at him. “Something ... else?”

Casey didn’t bother to hide the relaxed curl of his mouth, the purposeful way he had said it, just to keep him wobbling and unready to face the nasty surprises that hid beyond the door. “Drink.”

“Did they tell you that you had to be nice to me?” Chuck asked, doing his best sneer. “Maybe try to get me to talk?”

“Actually, they said something along the lines of trying to get you to shut up.”

“There are times I forgot you’re an asshole, and then you say that and it clears it right up for me.”

“Good. Then you know what’s going to happen if you don’t follow orders.”

Chuck crossed his arms over his chest, giving him his most obstinate gaze, ready to tell him what he could do with those orders – take that, you jerk - but he wasn’t a fool either. Where would that get him?

Twisting the canteen in his fingers, he drank again, wondering how he could get it from Casey without his knowledge. Chuck wasn’t going to kid himself that it would be easy – Casey had a knack for details, after all – but he needed the canteen and provisions if he had any hope of escape. And he had hope. Maybe not a horse or the strength he needed yet, but there had to be a way out of here.

As Chuck lowered the flask and held it out to him, he felt the heat of Casey’s blue eyes watching his face again. Uncomfortable with that, he shifted his attention to Casey’s boots. Damn him for even looking at him after snatching his life away.

Casey wobbled the canteen, gauging how much he had downed, and screwed the cap back on. “I have to admit,” he said, leaning down to get another look at his face, “I thought you’d be spitting and clawing like a trapped wildcat by now. Let me see your pupils.”

“Fuck you,” Chuck snarled abruptly, batting his hand out of the way. “For your information, you selfish prick, I don’t need to spit hatred at a man who’s dead to me, now, do I?”

Casey chuckled and let his hand get pushed away. “I was wrong. Looks like you’re well on your way to recovery, pancake.”

“Can I have the food without the cynicism?”

He heard the aggravation in Casey’s sigh. “Did you hear anything I said earlier?”

“Do you really think I’m idiot enough to believe you?”

Hearing that, Casey stopped to take his hat off, pushing a hand through his hair. “I also forgot what an irksome turd you can be,” he growled. “Makes me wonder why I went to all the trouble.”

“If you went to any trouble for me, well, thanks but no thanks -”

“Save your spitefulness for later,” Casey said, raising a hand to stop him. “Let’s get some food in you.”

Up until now, Chuck had been completely engrossed in finding a way to either hit him or escape – both if he was lucky – but a note in Casey’s voice, his mannerisms, made the kid stop.

Chuck slowly tilted his head to the side. Something was decidedly off-kilter about the man he remembered.

“You ... you’re different,” he said.

“And you have a lot to say to a dead man. I hope a sandwich is okay?”

“No ... no, I mean it. You don’t sound as ... unrefined.”

“Should I be insulted?”

“Like that. Did you hear it? Your voice. It’s not as ... rough around the edges.”

“Sometimes things aren’t as they seem.” Casey reached into the burlap bag and took out a cloth, unfolding the edges. “Only had cheese,” he said, the folds falling away to reveal thickly sliced wheat bread with wedges of soft cheddar between them. “Here.”

“It’s not my imagination.”

“Are you going to take it?”

It smelled heavenly. His stomach growled. And still, none of that mattered.

Chuck tried to look past the sandwich to the chiseled jaw beyond it. “You ... conned me. You’re not that man I met.”

“I pegged you for a genius, but now I’m wondering if you understood the note I left.”

“I found it,” Chuck said defensively.

“Good.” Casey rolled his eyes and put the sandwich in his hand. “You should’ve figured it out, then.”

“Figured? But -”

“When I got to your farm that night, you expected an outlaw. A fugitive desperado?”

Chuck was speechless. He could only nod.

“Well, that’s what I gave you. And it worked for me – more in the beginning, at least. I used a bit of ... intimidation, kept you unsteady - which wasn’t difficult, I have to say.” A smile crossed his face at the memory. “I just played a part. It wasn’t much, since it was near the truth.

“You lied about who you are!”

“Don’t look so offended, brown eyes -”

“And don’t call me that. Not like before -”

“Heh. Did you think maybe you should’ve mentioned who the hell you are?” Casey stepped in closer, a large hand sliding up the post over his head, looming over him like a giant Colossus. “Bartowski?”

“You’re trying to deflect. This isn’t about me,” Chuck argued, and not able to resist any longer, he took a huge bite of the sandwich. “It was all a lie, a big joke to you, wasn’t it?” He almost choked on the bite and muttered bitterly, “Hate you.”

As soon as the words were out there, Chuck felt the press of Casey’s thighs on either side of his knees, holding him down. He flinched, but Casey then laid a hand on the kid’s inner thigh, his strong fingers passing over the knotted muscles. It was getting harder to ignore the scent of him, leather and old wood, familiar pear soap; so close. They wrestled into his thoughts, along with a cold, clear, creek ....

“Everything about you ... about this is true,” Casey said. “All of it.”

In reality the kid was too wired to unscramble a damn thing.

He took another bite, chewing as if it was the hardest thing he had done all day. The large hand still resting on his thigh tangled his thoughts. After what he had been through, Chuck was desperate to feel something besides loneliness, but he wasn’t ready. Not for him.

He pushed Casey’s hand away, and when he looked up, Casey was regarding him with an odd expression.

“Prove it to me,” Chuck said, gesturing towards the door. “Let’s go. Right now. Tonight. We’ll take two horses and whatever you have in that sack. We can be miles away by morning. They’ll never –”

“They will,” Casey broke in, snorting at his little bout of defiance. “In a way, they’re right. You are a naïve little dreamer.”

“I knew it. It is a lie. Otherwise, we’d be gone, and -”

“Don’t kid yourself. Liam would have half the county out searching by morning. Offer a reward that would make men sell their own mother for a fast horse and muzzle loader. You’d be back here before lunch, and my head would be on a stick.”

“How do you know?” Chuck snapped, feeling hopeless anger swell. “We can’t just stay here. You have to get me out of here.”

“Do you really think a man who can barely take a breath without hurting is going to ride all night?”

“I’m ... fine!”

“Yeah.” Casey merely raked his eyes down his torso and mumbled something. “And even if we survive to see tomorrow, do you think he ever gives up? Would ever stop looking for you? Or me?”

“Liam? I ... how would I know!”

Casey brushed the kid’s chin briefly with peculiar gentleness before cupping his jaw, dragging his dark eyes up to meet his. “The answer is no. He would never stop until you were back here. Even if your father gave up on the deal and went back to Boston, he wouldn’t give up. Not until you were back here and I was dead.”

“Just what I thought,” Chuck said stiffly. “Your job is to keep me under your thumb, isn’t it? Make sure I’m daddy’s little repentant boy when he shows up?”

“You’re wrong.”

“And you can jump out the window for all I care. Oh, wait. It’s boarded up!” Chuck pulled back, not wanting to feel his hand any longer. Jerking his head wasn’t his smartest move, however, because his head met the pole with a whack. “Ow, shit!”

“Haven’t had enough knocks to the noggin, cowboy?” Casey asked, though his eyes did seem to drift over his head, looking for further damage.

“Fuck off,” Chuck said, rubbing his head.

“This went better than I thought it would.” Casey sighed ruefully. “Now finish eating.”

Their eyes met in a battle of wills at the order. Chuck wanted to swing out at him, to scream. Except ... he was starving, and maybe telling him off would be easier on a full belly.

Looking away, Chuck tore into the next bite. “Maybe you are the same man,” he said, feeling the sandwich stick in his throat. “Just a big damn liar.”

Casey didn’t respond at first. Eventually, he brought his hands down, tucked his thumb into his pocket. “Luckily for you, that’s true,” he admitted under his breath. “But not how you think I am.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Chuck took another bite, chewed carefully before he swallowed. “What if I don’t want to find out? What if I just leave? On my own?”

“I guess that would prove you bumped your head harder than I thought.”

Why did he never listen? “You don’t have to come with me. Casey. Please.” The kid rarely flashed a bit of temper, but he felt his cheeks getting warm. “I could leave if you’d – without you! Right now.”

“The hell you could,” Casey said bluntly. “A tenderfoot like yourself, brown eyes? You wouldn’t get two miles on foot. You do realize you’d be wandering around in a strange territory at night? Running from men who know this area like their own hand? Hell, if they didn’t catch you, you’d be wolf kibble by morning.”

“Thanks a lot for your faith in my abilities.”

“Too bad for you that I’ve seen your abilities,” Casey said, eyes drifting down. “So unless you have plans of shelling out a few decent blowjobs to the ones that find you, I’d say you don’t stand a chance.”

“You – you son of a bitch!”

“Stand down, puppy. Not going to talk to you anymore tonight about this. Obviously, you’re tired and not thinking straight. Maybe tomorrow you’ll rethink your opinion of me.”

“The hell I will,” Chuck said. His knees were trembling with the urge to run. “You can’t change my mind.”

“Finish the sandwich,” was the curt reply, and Casey subtly proved he would make good on his promise to ignore Chuck for now by turning his back on him. “I’ll give you a sip of something stronger to wash it down.”

“You can keep your damn drink.” Resting the back of his head against the post, Chuck polished off the rest of the bread in one bite. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Casey didn’t bother to look up as he pawed through the burlap sack. “After that, I’ll give you a few blankets. They’re Vic’s, but I guess she won’t mind sharing with you. Tomorrow, I’ll try to rustle up a few clean ones you can use.”

“You’re not listening, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You are an infuriating man, you know that?”

“Mm.” Casey dismissed him with a shrug and pulled out a blanket.

Chuck scowled at his broad back, hating his ridiculously wide shoulders. Okay, that was the final straw. Damn him. Did he really think he could play with his life like this?

Something in the kid snapped. Maybe it was the sight of the canteen, lying out on a barrel near the door. Maybe it was the whinny of a horse down below, reminding him there was available transportation if he didn’t mind stealing.

And in this case, he didn’t.

-x-

Casey’s jaw tightened, reigning in his annoyance as he fished out the blankets. Ignoring Chuck for a few minutes seemed to give himself time to regain his cool grip. Whether he liked it or not, the kid needed to be reminded of his current status as hostage. Not the boss, not the one giving orders. If he didn’t shut up and listen, Chuck would bollix up everything and get them both killed for his troubles.

God, the little shit knew how to get to him more than anyone else.

Casey had to ask himself if the kid was worth it, but he had to cut Chuck some slack until that big brain of his could process Casey’s appearance here, and the perception he had led to the kid’s captivity.

Maybe, after all of that, they could get back to the way they were at the farm. Hunting and fishing, sharing sustenance in the day, and at night – tearing away secrets, giving thanks to undarkened innocence -

“I’ve got some whiskey for you when you’re done with that,” Casey said, and slipping it out of the sack, he gave it a shake. Not much, but enough to help the kid take the edge off, he guessed. “You have had whiskey before, haven’t you?”

No answer. Well, just perfect. Now, in retaliation, Chuck was turning a deaf ear to him.

“Kid?” Casey, holding the bottle, started to turn. “If you need more, I have – the hell?”

Casey’s eyes roamed over the barrel, the crates. Well, it just got better. Seems he had just misplaced one long-legged, brown-eyed boy.

“Tu cac beag,” Casey said, stringing along curses as he strode to the doorway. Squinting into the darkness, he looked right, left, and immediately fixed a cold hard stare upon Chuck. “If you don’t get your skinny ass over here -”

“Stop! Stay there! Don’t – don’t come near me.” Down the dimly lit catwalk, the kid backed up a step, glancing past his shoulder. He looked lost, terrified yet determined, and Casey judged he was all those things in one vibrating bundle of nerves. “I told you. I’m leaving. I ... can’t trust you, John.”

Casey cocked his head at him. “Looks like you went the wrong way, pancake,” he said calmly, taking a step towards him. “You had a fifty-fifty chance find the way to the stairs ... but it looks like you found a dead-end instead. There’s no way down from the loft behind you.”

Chuck swallowed thickly, his amber eyes turbulent as a rolling tumble weed. “I remember the stairs –”

“Yeah, they’re behind me.” Not breaking eye contact, Casey strolled in a step closer. “Like I said, wrong way, genius.”

“Oh.” Chuck digested that and straightened. “Casey, you leave me no choice.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m ordering you to move out of my way,” Chuck said, his fingers tightening around the railing.

“Hands shaking a little, Bartowski?” Casey gave him a smirk and slowly swept his arms out to the sides, herding him into a tighter spot. “Are you looking down? We’re twenty-five feet up, and those piles of straw might not be enough to break your fall. If I remember, you’re not exactly fond of heights, eh?”

“I’m not afraid – stay back.” But despite the show of bravery, Casey could see his eyes getting wild, frantic. The kid glimpsed past him as if he was actually thinking about making a break for it. “Just get out of my way ... and I won’t have to, well ... hurt you.”

Casey’s lips twisted, though he deemed an outright smile at that would only serve to rile him further, and the objective now was to take control. “Hate to point out the obvious, kid, but I’m bigger than you and I haven’t spent the last week being starved and beaten.”

“And whose fault is that?”

The pang of anger he felt would have to wait. “The truth is, sunshine, you’re not getting around me.”

Chuck started to open his mouth, but something caught his eye. He reached, and when he faced off with Casey, the kid had something in his hands. The pitchfork’s tines glinted as Chuck wielded it at him, the spikes pointed in the vicinity of Casey’s head.

“If I have to, I – I will!”

Casey rolled his eyes. “You always like to do things the hard way, don’t you, kid.”

“Get out of my way,” Chuck announced, the quiver in his voice amplified in the cavernous space. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Oh ... you have no idea,” Casey answered, boots tamping softly as he automatically took another step. “Give me the pitchfork.”

Rather than give it to him, Chuck poked the air between them. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“I am helping you.” Another foot of space between them disappeared. The tines were awfully close to Casey’s chest, and it peeved him that the kid looked like he actually wanted to spear him in a place he had rested his tousled head. “You just don’t know it yet.”

“By kidnapping me? Sending me back to a place I can’t bear to go to? Hurting me?” Chuck’s voice broke over the last few syllables. “I knew you were a mistake. You’re the last man I should be with.”

“Put that down.” Casey moved in one more pace, within a few inches from the end of the pitchfork. The situation was getting too dangerous, but not in the way the kid imagined it. If anyone heard Chuck suggest they were together, had shared warm lips, wet bodies, heat... there would be no talking their way out of it.

“Not a chance!”

“Chuck, whatever you’re thinking of doing here –”

“Get back!” Now the little tiger had the audacity to take a swipe at him. “I’m – I’m going to use this if you try to stop me!”

He, of all people, should know John Casey had no gears for backing down. The threat made his blood rise. He moved in, just out of reach of the prongs, and deliberately folded his bulging arms over his chest. Their faces were close, giving Casey a view deep into the kid’s eyes, the hue of a worn saddle, blistered with silken gold strands. Filled with fear, grit.

Casey lifted his chin, not looking down at the tines nearly touching his chest. “Now what are you going to do?” he rumbled. “Think. You’re pointing that at the wrong man.”

Chuck bit down on his bottom lip, wavering. “No, I’m pretty sure I have this pointed at the right man.”

Casey watched as his hands clenched and unclenched around the pitchfork’s handle. Suddenly, pinpricks rippled down his body, the itchy feeling that this was about to go badly.

Instinct told Casey to move.

He dodged. There was a shiny blur, the pitchfork sailing past his left ear. A second later, it clattered to the dirt floor beneath the catwalk, a silent reminder that it was a heck of a fall if someone did something stupid.

Chuck’s eyes blew wide, staring in amazement at what he had done with his own hands. Maybe shocked that he had the balls to throw it. Or maybe that he had missed.

“Uh-oh,” he said.

Casey stared. “Tell me you didn’t just say uh-oh, Bartowski.”

“Well, I – what I meant to do was –”

“A pitchfork? What the hell were you thinking?”

Chuck gave him another ‘fuck you’ look and turned to run. Where, Casey had no idea, but it didn’t matter anymore. The kid had no finesse, no direction, just pushing ahead by the urgent sense to flee.

That was your mistake, cupcake. Not me.

Casey exploded after him and leapt, grappling him around the waist. Down the two of them came in a tangle of long limbs, Chuck’s wiry body under him struggling and kicking with the bit of energy he had left. When Casey flattened his chest to Chuck’s back, just to get him to calm down, he heard the kid suck in a sharp breath.

“Ah! Please no! You’re hurting me!”

He very badly wanted to point out that Chuck had just tried to kill him, and maybe he deserved to get hurt. But when Casey caught sight of the kid’s face screwed up in agony, one of his hands sagging down to his ribcage, he hated himself for putting pain in those mournful brown eyes. A two-hundred plus pound man on top of a rawboned kid like Chuck wasn’t exactly a fair fight.

Heaving a sigh, Casey flipped him over on his back – gently, God, don’t hurt him – and sat up a little, straddling his thighs. He looked down to see that Chuck had his eyes closed, panting short breaths to keep his chest from expanding, groaning softly in his throat.

Casey brought a hand down, ready to lift his shirt and get a look. But that was the moment the kid’s knee hooked up, intent to find a bull’s-eye to the jewels.

“Bastard!” the kid sputtered.

Well, Casey took exception to the taunt – and the attempt to crack his nuts. He squeezed his legs together to thwart a second shot. “You’ll be really pissed at yourself later on, pancake, if that’s not in working order.”

“Go to hell – and get off! Ow ....”

“Your ribs,” Casey said, giving a fleeting look downward. “I will be taking a look at those, you know.”

“You’re not going to touch me!”

Hell, yes, he was. The anticipation of it now, hard groin to hard groin, the pressure of his muscular, lean physique on every available inch of his, made his own body catch fire already.

“Jesus, numb nuts.” Casey bent over him, moving his hands to circle his wrists as Chuck tried to buck him off. He waited, studying him thoroughly, knowing there wasn’t much more he could do.

The kid squirmed, trying to roll under him, trying to break his wrists free, but he finally figured it out. After a minute, he was out of steam, and though Casey knew Chuck had tenacity, he was smart enough to know that being pinned under him was only hurting himself.

“Casey ... Casey.” Chuck said them both, breathed them both, and then he said words that meant nothing, but spoke directly to something inside both of them. “The strawberry field,” the kid murmured. “I know you remember. I couldn’t breathe then, either.”

Casey pulled back. “What?”

“You ... you did the same thing to me then,” Chuck said, still not opening his eyes. “Except ... I could tell you wanted to kiss me. Now you want to kill me.”

“You’ve got the kill part right, anyway,” Casey muttered. He was too pissed to tell him he was right on both counts. It was the same. When Chuck led them through a briar patch to a field of strawberries, he did want to kiss him. And it all went to hell after that.

“I can’t fight you, I know that,” Chuck said, like Casey had taken the wind from his sails, but not quite pulled him under. “Not like this. I still don’t believe you, not any of it, but if you have to put me back there, just get it over with, okay?”

“I have to,” Casey said, smoothing a hand over his jaw. “But not for the reason you think.”

“That’s bullshit. We both know -”

A sound of scraping, old wood and hinges, cut him off. Their heads simultaneously snapped in the direction of the barn door, beneath them at the far wall. A moving lantern swept by the stalls, light briefly hitting the walls, bales of hay. A man stopped at the staircase.

“Johnnie?” a deep voice called up to the rafters. “Where are you, laddie?”

“God ... not him.” Chuck was gasping. He grasped the edge of Casey’s shirt. “He ... did this. Please, don’t say anything. Make him go away.”

Casey’s throat closed up as he tried to fight it down, fight it away. There was no choice, but the kid would never get it.

“Up here,” Casey responded, and without glancing at Chuck, he picked him up by the collar and began to half carry, half drag him back the storage room. “Keep your mouth shut. Let me handle this.”

“Is this the part where you tell him I’ll be your nice compliant boy?” Chuck hissed. Once inside the tiny room, he wrenched his collar free and slanted his head towards the doorway, listening to the footsteps on the stairs, up to the catwalk. “Because if it is, you can bite me.”

Casey gave him a squint of dire warning and began to gather up the burlap bag. He distinguished the clomping of two sets of boots, so someone was with Liam.

“Problem, Johnnie?” Liam asked, his imposing figure filling the doorway. He paused to look between them, his black eyes strolling over Chuck until the kid backed up a step. “Giving you some of his lip, I suppose?”

“I’d say so.” Rudy laughed. The little pain in the ass only came up to Liam’s collar, so he had to stretch his neck to peer past him. “Looks like he decided to go for an unsupervised promenade tonight? Need a breath of fresh air, kid?”

Satisfied to see that Chuck kept his mouth shut, Casey didn’t bother to acknowledge the twit, his eyes instead meeting Liam’s curious gaze.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Casey growled. “City boy here showed his appreciation for the sandwich I gave him by trying to give me the slip.” He flicked a look at Chuck with a bit of real irritation. “Not to mention a pitchfork through the ribs.”

Rudy barked another laugh, enjoying Casey’s look of affront. “He got the best of you? That one?”

Before Casey could kindly tell him to go fuck himself, Liam raised a palm to stop him. “Keep in mind, boyo, he’s the linchpin to the trade. Without him, there’s no deal.” Liam raised a brow at Chuck. “Keep tabs on the boy until then.”

Rudy grinned behind Liam’s shoulder. “Can you do that Johnnie-boy?” he mouthed without a sound.

“Finish up and come down,” Liam suggested. “I want to run the contract by you again. No one has an eye for detail like you, laddie.”

He saw Chuck look down at his stocking feet, his face turning pale as if he wanted to throw up. It was the first time Casey noticed that the kid’s boots were gone, and he wondered which one of these asshats had taken them. He also made a mental note to track them down.

“I’ll be right there.” Casey took Chuck by the arm and tugged, signaling he should sit. “Got some loose ends to tie up.”

Chuck stiffened, kept his attention on his feet.

They left. The other men’s boots made a quiet thump on each stair, and then the wooden door hitting the latch told Casey they were alone for now.

He glanced back, really looked at him. He saw Chuck had his eyes closed, jaw held taut, breathing shallow.

“Chuck,” Casey said to get him to turn. “It’s not who I am anymore. I know you don’t believe me, but this is going to be all right.”

Chuck opened his eyes, blinked. There were small splotches of blood on the front of his shirt. Probably from a cut on the head, Casey figured, though he couldn’t see the gash. The kid for once looked terribly fragile, like a figure from a dream that would crack and break at the first noise. If they had anything then, it was lost. Chuck heard he was a job, nothing more, and nothing else would get through his thick head tonight. Maybe ever.

Not ready to be pushed away, Casey didn’t even attempt to hold him. “Kid, look at me.”

“Stop. I can’t do this,” Chuck said after a moment. “Just can’t, okay?”

“Okay,” Casey said, because no other words would cover this.

Chuck let out a breath as if in pain, but then he straightened, holding out his wrists in front of him. “You have your job to do, don’t you?” the kid said with ice on his voice. “Tying up loose ends? I don’t want you to keep your boss waiting.”

“Be thankful I’m not going to gag you,” Casey mumbled. Not wanting to meet his eyes, he scooped up the kid’s wrists, tied one off, and looped the rope around the pole before tying off the other wrist. “You’ll be more comfortable with your hands in front of you, at least.”

“How generous of you.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow when you don’t have that crazy look in your eyes.”

“It’s called hatred. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.” When Casey came to him, Chuck shook his head, backed up. He was disoriented enough by the huge welling around him, the larger man guessed, but it had sprung leaks, made it hard to breathe.

“No,” Chuck managed.

But Casey put his hands to the back of his head, leaning in to sandwich him between the grounding points of his body and the pole. When he tried to pull back, he hung on and spoke gruffly into his hair, then took the liberty of caressing one cheek since the kid couldn’t pull away. “Why is it so fucking hard for you to believe I want this?”

Chuck didn’t reply at first, turning his head away. “I’ve never made a mistake like you,” he finally said.

Even with the chirp of crickets in the farmyard, the animal noises below, Casey only heard the ringing in his ears. It wasn’t the first time he had told him.

-x-

“This. It doesn’t always end up how you planned.” With one hand steering his jaw, he leaned forward then, caught Chuck’s lips before he could draw back. He kissed him hard and thoroughly and exactly what this little dumb shit needed, his hand gripping the back of his neck so he couldn’t move. A need that had been there, just waiting for him to open to it. Feeling it, his own need rose high and hard, pushing up against the thin undershorts. He knew the kid’s mouth would be like this, hot, wet, soft for him.

The world and the air were too jumbled with a sweet dull longing to discern the difference, and maybe it was both. On the bank, with the sun sparkling on the creek, leaves flitting, and the most improbable confounding man intertwined with him.

Chuck pulled back, gasping, beautiful eyes covering every feature, lingering on the lips that were just pressed to his. He swallowed, throat bobbing with a sound, limbs wound tight beneath him.

“You … if there was ever a wrong man, that would have to be you.”

Yeah, if God had a say in this, he probably was wrong in every damn way.

But then there was a warm kiss, and it made him forget he should on the ridge heading north. It erased his apprehension about staying here with a man who could pull off what the kid had just done. How it made him watery for the first time in years. Maybe ever.

-x-

At length, Casey lowered his grip, now hanging onto his waist. Otherwise, Chuck was just as still, no choice but to be touched, giving away too much with a shudder running through his slender body. “Don’t,” Chuck said again. “Just don’t.”

Casey stepped back, but he could tell he had flustered Chuck with his hand straying over his elbow, his hip, and not a damn thing he could do about it. “Always fighting, aren’t you?” he asked, his hand sliding around his narrow waist. “Trust me, kid. My goal is to get us out of here.” And get you in my bed as soon as possible.

“Never,” Chuck answered hotly. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Leaning in, his nose brushed Chuck’s cheek, breath ruffling the hair over his ear. He stayed that way, motionless, letting him feel the restraint, the possession and reassurance in one touch, one gesture. “The only thing I can promise is that the hurt’s going to be gone.”

“Go ... away.” Chuck closed his eyes.

Casey put the blankets on the floor under his feet, picked up the burlap bag and the kerosene lamp. When he got to the door, he turned and was satisfied by the fact Chuck had been watching him.

“You’re wrong about that,” Casey said, meeting Chuck’s dark eyes. “I’m not your mistake, kid. And you’re not mine.”

-x- End Chapter Two Sins Fell Angels –x-


	3. Chapter Three

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Three

-x-

“Back so soon?” Chuck peered up at him and wrinkled his nose. “Did you run out of banks to rob or towns to raid? Oh, wait – what about burning down a church? That seems right up your alley.”

“Got bored with that,” Casey muttered back at him. “Decided to torture gangly twits with big mouths and bad hair. Know where I can find one of those?” A patronizing pat on the head had the kid yanking away from Casey’s hand. “Never mind.”

“Glad this amuses you.” Chuck gave him a dirty look and held up his bound hands. The length of rope that was looped around the pole gave him some movement, but not much. “Is that why you’re here? Did they tell you to come up here and goad me? Because if they did, you’re doing it quite well – but then again, you do have experience at it.”

“I’m reminding you, kid, you can’t talk about ... my experience around anyone else.”

“Nice touch. Making it sound like you’re keeping secrets from them. Is that part of your script from your boss?”

“Yeah. Then it says I need to find a gag. Know where I can scrounge one up?”

Chuck’s mouth snapped shut and he leaned back, away from danger.

Satisfied for the moment, Casey slung the burlap bag from his shoulder and set it on the sawhorse table before looking down at him. Chuck was sitting on one of Vic’s blankets at the base of the pole that ran through the center of the room, but really, where else would he be? The kid didn’t seem like the muskrat-type, willing to chew off his own arm to get free.

“Need you to stand up,” Casey told him.

Chuck glanced away, frowning at Casey’s worn leather boots, close enough to nearly touch one of his knees. “I’m good here. You’ve done your job, haven’t you? I’m still alive, still here and by all appearances not going anywhere. So why don’t you go check in with your boss – and leave me alone.”

“Food and a good night’s sleep did miles of good for your orneriness, eh?”

“I prefer my own bed.”

Casey got down on his haunches, and a teasing smirk crossed his face. “So do I.”

“And torture complete. Now go away.”

“You didn’t seem tortured,” Casey said, and taking another liberty with Chuck’s hands tied, he patted his unbruised cheek. “At the time, anyway.”

Chuck’s neck turned red. “You ... tricked me,” he mumbled. “Not going to happen again.”

“Tricked you, huh?” Casey had to chuckle at that, and then he leaned in close enough for his lips to brush the curls over one ear. “Not exactly the way I remember it ... that was you, wasn’t it? In the tub?

“It ... was a weak moment, okay!” The kid set his jaw. “Trust me, it won’t happen again.”

Yeah? Not today, or even this week, and not until this fucked-up mess was behind them, but Casey figured differently. His brown-eyed canary would be singing another tune in due time.

“Come on. Get up.”

“I ... just give me a minute?” Chuck gave an uneasy glance up at him and wrapped a hand around the post. A second or two slipped by before Casey grasped the real reason for his hesitation. It had less to do with Chuck’s desire to disobey than his inability to climb to his feet without wrenching one of his injured ribs.

“Know what? I want you to lift your shirt.”

Chuck blinked up at him. “No! And I can do it on my own – without you,” the kid shot back. “I’m not a china doll, you know. I can take care of myself. But you could help me by untying this.”

Watching Chuck bravely try to get his feet under him, Casey had to push down the urge to kill the two twits he held accountable and leave their bodies under the hay.

“Here,” he said, holding out a hand. “Give me your arm.”

Chuck slapped his hand away and sagged back against the post. “Just go stand over there and do something you’re good at – growling or bullying will do –and I’ll ah – what did I just say?”

“Don’t ask me,” Casey broke in, and while the kid argued, he slipped his palms under his armpits to haul him to his feet. “I stopped listening a minute ago.”

The manhandling had him bristling. “What I said was –”

“And that wasn’t an invitation to repeat it, kid. Simply a point of clarification.”

Chuck gave him the stink-eye. He did shut up, however, and after Casey was sure the kid had his legs under him, the larger man untied the cord from one of his wrists. A bracelet of rope burns was evident until Chuck quickly covered the red marks by using his other palm to massage his wrist.

Salve. Add that to the list.

“What about this?” Chuck held up his other hand and flashed a pointed look at the short length of rope that led to Casey’s fist. “Aren’t you going to -”

“The last time I tried that, I almost ended up with a pitchfork between the eyes.”

“You ducked too quickly,” Chuck said, giving the length of rope a rebellious tug.

“And your aim hasn’t improved,” Casey noted, and he answered the tug right back.

Chuck attempted to shuffle backwards, until the rope went taut. “If you don’t mind, you big jerk, I have to ... uh, take care of something.” Uncomfortable, he tipped his head in the direction of the bucket in the corner. “Do you mind?”

“Leak. Piss. You can say it, city boy. I told you before; your proper ways don’t get you far out here.” Casey edged forward, and when he went on, his voice was suddenly chilly. “But I have to say, I did enjoy hearing the story about where the propriety came from. A victim of good breeding, huh?”

“Let me guess. Now that you know my upbringing, you resent me?”

“I resent your stupidity for not telling me who you are.”

“You’re splitting hairs, you know that, right?”

Casey shrugged and took a few steps over to the bucket, momentarily forgetting that the kid had to follow until he heard Chuck suck in a breath. Looking back at his hurt expression, Casey made a snap decision.

“Come on. You need some air.”

Chuck stared at him as if he had a few screws loose. “Outside?”

“No. I was going to bring the air in here and stuff you in a bag with it.”

“Oh-kay, then. Stupid question retracted.”

“Let’s go.” Casey began walking before Chuck could interrupt again, and the kid, recognizing he should move or get dragged, made a good choice for once. Down the stairs, around the back to a paddock door, Casey led him without looking back. “Just don’t make a racket.”

“Are we hiding from someone?”

Halting in the grassy area behind the barn, Casey finally turned to Chuck, getting the first good look at him in the daylight. “Eyes over here, pancake,” he said, motioning. “Let me see you.”

Chuck backpedaled. Feeling the line tauten, Casey gave him a small tug and waited for him to hold still. “Geez!” The kid tentatively met his eyes. “Fine. Just stop pulling.”

Casey drew back a step, considering him as Chuck got antsy and looked away over the field, trying to catch his breath, find a balance. Then Casey felt his throat close up, like there was something welling there.

Not that he was worse off than Casey originally assessed. It wasn’t quite like that. But looking beyond the few visible bruises, it just made him remember how long he had waited to see him. Under the dirt and marks, he was the same kid; intelligent eyes, paired with curly hair and a crooked smile, though it would take a damn sight more than bread, cheese, and water to coax a grin out of him.

Misinterpreting Casey’s perusal, Chuck blinked and brought up his forearm to block the sun until his eyes could adjust. “You don’t know what it’s like. Being locked up in there.”

“Not what I’m looking at.”

“Well, whatever it is, you can stop.” Chuck stuffed his hands in his pockets, and with the sunlight touching his skin, he closed his eyes and tipped his head up. “God. Finally.”

Casey swallowed thickly and looked away from him. Why not give him a moment to revel in the fresh air? So he did, letting the kid cross the grass, lean against a fence post and breathe in the scent of the meadow while neither man spoke. The silence stretched for a few minutes, but of course, the kid had to break it eventually.

“Why do I have to be here?” Chuck asked, resting his elbows on the top rail of the fence. “And how is it that you’re here?”

Questions he’d continue to ask, and questions Casey would continue to deflect for now. He took that as his signal to speed this up. “Let’s go.” He nudged Chuck in the shoulder and gave the leash – tether – a little reminder tug. “Not waiting here all day for you to sniff every patch of grass. Get on with it. Take care of your business.”

“I do other tricks, you know,” Chuck vented, tugging on his wrist to see if Casey would let go.

Casey didn’t. “I’ve seen a few of them,” he said succinctly. “This one isn’t my favorite, but get at it.”

Chuck’s brows bunched up, scowling. But after considering the options – nada and zip – the kid turned his back on him and obliged, despite the two feet rope-length of privacy.

When Chuck finished up and turned around, Casey could see him using the advantage of being outside to let his eyes sweep over the landscape. He seemed to take it all in; the rolling pasture, blue-green forest up to the ridge, and the craggy peaks of Rampart Range poking up in the distance.

“What is this place?”

“I told you last night. Black Rock.”

Chuck gave him a strange look. “I don’t see anything that resembles a rock – let alone a black one.”

“Not a rock, doofus. A place,” Casey explained. And a ring, but he didn’t need to know that. “The ranch house is on the other side of the barn, past the corral. You can’t see it from here.”

“Then why are we hiding?” Chuck asked.

“I didn’t want anyone to watch us when we’re together.”

Chuck processed that, and seeing that on some days he could be an idiot without much effort, the kid then stepped back suspiciously. “Why?”

“What?”

As though deciding he would live with the rope burn, the kid pulled back further, the leash digging into his wrist. “Because .... because if you think ... for one minute ... that I’m going to let you –”

“Let me?” Casey arched a brow. “Is that what you’re thinking? Get you down on all fours? Right here on the grass?” He shook his head. “Look at you. You couldn’t fuck a paper doll right now.”

No one could blush like that kid when he had his dander raised. “I – I didn’t mean -!”

“Sure you didn’t.” Casey took a moment to enjoy the way his rangy body had tensed up at just the thought of it. Or did you have a vision kid? Either way, time was up, and he gave him a gentler tug toward the paddock door. “Didn’t mean to embarrass you, tiger.”

Hell, yes, he did. Why not? Just the sight of the kid’s slightly rounded buttocks through the back of his jeans a minute ago made it too tempting not to get him thinking.

“I’m not embarrassed.” Still red-faced, Chuck took hold of the rope between them to ease up on the pull. It gave the illusion of a tug of war, which Casey guessed was dead on. “You know why? I’m not listening to you.”

“Come on, puppy,” Casey muttered under his breath. “Move your ass. Back inside. I’ve got something for you.”

“Inside? You’re taking me back up there?” Behind him, Casey felt the tether strain briefly until Chuck changed his tactic, coming around to stand in his path. “No.”

“What do you think you’re doing, kid?”

“Hang on.” Chuck stood so close to Casey’s body that he felt a brush of his arm against his. “Right now ... this wasn’t a chance for me to – run? We aren’t leaving?”

The hurt eyes were oddly difficult to avoid. “I thought you might want to step outside. Get some air.”

“But ... now what?” The kid’s face said more than that. I want go. I want to get out of here. Don’t follow me. Please. I want to go home. He started to back away until the tether bit in.

Casey fought the urge to push him in one direction and yell go. That was suicide. “Breakfast,” he said. “You’re hungry aren’t you?”

Chuck managed a nod, though it looked as if he could barely follow his words.

“Then come on.” When he didn’t move, Casey considered dragging him by the leash to get him to listen, but then he recalled the already tender red marks around his wrists. “One thing at a time, Chuck. It won’t make sense right now. You’ve got to live with that for a while.”

Chuck wet his lips nervously. “What if I can’t?”

“You will.” Casey’s hand slid around his bicep and tightened enough to steer him back upstairs. “Let’s go.”

-x-

Walking Chuck into the small room, Casey approached the table where he had left the burlap sack. Well, he tried to anyway, but the kid had other ideas which he proved by digging his heels in.

“Do you mind?” Chuck asked, and staring in bewilderment, he held up his hand attached to the rope. “Can we get rid of this? I’m not your dog, you know.”

“The only dog I ever had knew how to listen,” Casey replied, taking Chuck’s wrist. “Could bring me my loaded pistol between his teeth, too.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, but just untie it, give me my breakfast and go.”

It wasn’t going to be that easy, brown eyes. However, that did shed some early light on how big of a pain in the ass he was going to be when he found out what was going to happen after breakfast.

“Knew how to roll over, too,” Casey tacked on.

“Screw you.”

“Heh.” Casey took a few steps to shut the door, making Chuck half stumble over a crate underfoot because he needed a reminder of who was on a leash. From there, he let go of the other end and made quick work of unloosening the bind. “Just don’t try to run again, or that goes around your damn neck.”

Chuck openly his mouth briefly, took in his expression, and then visibly gulped.

At least he still had that going for him, Casey thought. He had to confess it was somewhat satisfying to know that the kid still had a few jitters around him, that he knew the larger man didn’t make threats willy-nilly.

And when the time came, Chuck would be forced to follow him in order to get out. It meant his last bit of fear over willfulness might be the thing to save him.

“Take a seat,” Casey told him. A tall oak barrel in one of the corners was the only suitable chair, so Casey shoved it next to the pole and nodded at the kid. “Climb on.”

Maybe too sick of arguing, too tired, or just plain hurting, Chuck only hesitated for a second before he plopped down. He used the post for a back rest, leaving his long legs dangling, feet not quite touching the floor.

“I don’t know what you have in that bag,” Chuck said, heaving a breath, “but something more than bread and cheese would be nice.”

“Aren’t you picky?” Casey delivered it with a small smile, because he already knew the kid had a hollow leg to go with his skinny yet perfect ass, and he might be gratified when he saw what Casey had plucked from the pantry. “Looks like you’re in luck.”

Chuck sat up straight, his stomach giving an embarrassingly loud growl. “Frankly, I’m the most unlucky man going, but that would be the epitome of quibbling right now.” He waggled his hand. “Let’s see what you have. What’s in the sack?”

“Nothing much.” Casey shrugged, reaching into the burlap sack. “Just some cooked sausage, hard boiled eggs, fry cakes – might still be warm – syrup -”

“Oh. Oh, God.” Chuck closed his eyes, inhaled, and in nothing flat, Casey became fixated on the tip of the kid’s tongue, sweeping his lips. Pink, soft, moist. What’s more, Casey knew for a fact he had been taught how to use it. “Is there -”

“Hot coffee.” Casey brought out a flask and dug around a little more. “Huh. Might be a piece of pound cake in here somewhere ..?”

“I want ...gah. Just - any of that sounds good.” Chuck’s long fingers, which Casey also knew to be perfectly adept, extended to him. “Sausage is fine.”

Casey sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, guessing the kid wouldn’t see the humor in it. Unfolding a cloth napkin, he passed it off to him and went digging for the eggs and fry cakes next. “Slow kid,” he said softly, hearing him chew, “there’ll be more, okay? Don’t eat like it’s your last meal.”

“Is it?”

“Shut up and eat.”

Finding the napkin that held a stack of fry cakes, Casey handed it to him. Chuck’s burning focus on the food gave Casey a chance to stop and scrutinize his charge, taking him in from sock feet to the top of his tousled head.

Jesus, look at him.

Three days to haul him here, a couple more where he was stowed away, and the entire time he probably never saw a decent meal. The way Chuck demolished the food made Casey want to shoot someone – a hell of a lot of someones– but for the time being he had to let that slide off him.

Casey reached for his own flask of coffee, took a swallow, his blue eyes continuing to study him thoughtfully while he ate. Yes, he had been through hell, but the elements of his character that got him out here in the first place, kept him alive all these months, were still intact. If anything, the kid had been born with some dogged resilience.

“Easy, brown eyes,” Casey said, watching the kid lick his fingers. “Ready to wash it down with some coffee?”

“Mmm,” Chuck managed around a mouthful of fry cakes. “Did you menfin pound cake?”

Casey rolled his eyes and handed him a tin cup and another napkin. Leaning his backside on the table, his eyes traveled down his long legs, torn jeans, over the filthy light blue shirt he wore. It was missing a few buttons, parted at his waist, sliced open at his ribcage. He shouldn’t be looking – like a damn idiot – or noticing things like the way his ragged placket revealed flesh, a narrow trail of dark hair past his navel –

Jeans, riding low on his hips.

A flash of gold.

Gold. “... the hell,” Casey growled, closing the gap between them. “Is that ....”

“What?” Chuck raised his head, everything about him becoming alert. “What are you looking at?”

“This.” Casey dropped a big hand on Chuck’s hip, a few fingers slipping down into his pocket. “Hold still.”

“Hey!” Chuck lurched backwards, or at least tried to until Casey tightened his fingers. “Get your hands – ah, what are you doing?”

“Not what you think.” When Casey lifted his hand, he held up his catch in front of the kid’s startled eyes. “You had this with you? The entire time?”

Chuck’s gaze fell, passing over the gold pocket watch suspended from the thin woven chain. He wet his throat audibly. “I always ... carry it with me,” he said, avoiding Casey’s sharp eyes. “It was the only thing I had. Except ... the note you left.”

“God, those imbeciles,” Casey uttered, closing his fingers around the casing. The urge to put it back in Chuck’s pocket and let him know it would be his was going to kill him. Yet he couldn’t do that. “They didn’t search your pockets? They never saw this?”

“No. I – it was hidden ... and they only took my boots.” He flushed and cast a glance at his feet. “To stop me from running, I guess.”

Casey stared at him a minute, but it wasn’t the kid’s fault. “I suppose you were able to fix it.” He lowered the chain and put one hand on Chuck’s knee. “Got it working again.”

Chuck shifted his leg, ostensibly to remove the unwelcome touch. “I told you before. There’s nothing I can’t fix. Well, there wasn’t at least.” His lips tightened. “And I assume you want it back now. Your job is done, isn’t it? I fell for your little ruse, I’m here now, so hey – just take it.”

“That’s not the reason I have to take it from you,” Casey said, and he felt like a big prick slipping it into his own pocket. “You’re not ready to hear it.”

“It doesn’t matter what the reason is. Do you get that, John?”

Casey took his hat off and set it down carefully on the table. “Save your belligerence. You’re going to need it.”

Chuck opened his mouth, thought better of whatever he was ready to say, and finished the coffee in one long swig. “Thanks for breakfast,” he said, thick with sarcasm, and without another word, he looked off to the side and handed him the empty napkins. “You can leave now.”

Is that so, cupcake? Because there was no goddamn way Casey was about to be dismissed by a pair of brown eyes without saying a bit more of his piece.

“Listen, twerp.” Casey put a hand on his jaw and throat, dragging his attention up to meet his stern eyes. “If those pinheads who grabbed you found the watch with my name engraved on it, they would know.”

“Know?” Chuck said between his teeth. “That you’re a big liar and you would go so far as to sleep with a man to blind him to who you are? Don’t they know that already?”

Casey gave him the warning squint. When the kid didn’t back down, he scrunched his fingers, could feel his jaw held taut. “Chuck -”

“I don’t want to hear it. Not now.” Chuck’s breath became shallow, the pain getting to him. Or maybe something else. “Not ever.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“God.” Chuck sighed and moved his shoulder uneasily. “How many more lies do you think I’m going to sit here and take? I’m not stupid -”

“Not saying that, am I? You’ve always been too smart for your own good, I suspect.”

“Then how would anyone find me?” Chuck asked abruptly. “I covered every track.”

“Except one, brown eyes.” One last squeeze of his fingertips against stubble, and Casey released the kid’s chin. “I asked ... at dinner last night. I heard how it happened.”

“What makes you think I would believe you?” Chuck’s hands tightened into fists. “Or did you forget? I’m here against my will.”

“Regardless whether you believe me or not, I’m going to tell you. It was your idiot friend.” Ignoring the incredulous stare, Casey returned the empty flask and napkins to his sack. “The bearded little nitwit at the mercantile.”

“Morgan?” Chuck turned the shade of seaweed. Casey guessed it had nothing to do with wolfing down his breakfast. “That’s ... not possible. He’d never say a word to anyone. He would never betray me.”

“That’s not what I said. He may be a moron, but you’re right. I don’t think he’d betray you.”

“Then –”

“You made a lethal mistake, kid.” Knowing he would pull back at this, Casey caught Chuck’s wrist and held on, his fingers tracing over the tiny ridges of rope burn. “When you’re on the run, you never tell someone those kinds of secrets. Who you are. Where you’re from.”

“You would know better than anyone.” In spite of that, Chuck gave in to the hold, but Casey took the compliance for what it was. Nothing more than ache and exhaustion, unwillingness to struggle this very minute. “Of course, considering where you’re from, I’d keep it a secret, too.”

Casey paid no mind to the jibe. “It’s tempting, I know, once you think you can trust someone,” he said, and his thumb swept his inner wrist, a move that said listen to me. “You weren’t careful enough, though. It only took a made-up sob story from Rudy to get your idiot friend talking.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Chuck said. “None of it.”

“You’re right. It’s yours.”

“Mine?” Now he did try to get his hand free, but Casey wasn’t ready to give up the feel of warm skin. He hung on.

“Morgan didn’t need to know you had a sister,” Casey explained. “That she was back at home, probably missing you almost as much as you missed her. That she would do anything to hear from you, or know you’re still alive.”

“I ... never said more than that.” Chuck closed his eyes and leaned the crown of his head on the post. He looked pained, but that was too fucking bad. He had to hear it.

“Well, it was enough. Liam, Rudy, they knew who they were looking for. Who your sister is ... your family. And they also knew that in a shitty little hole of a town like that, everyone and his brother would come through that store at some point.”

“How would they know I was near that town? And even if they were watching, they would have no idea who I am.”

Casey chuckled at his naiveté and circled his fingers all the way around his wrist. As he held the kid, he could feel a tremor run through his arm, but he was going to listen. “Oh, it was much easier than that, Bartowski. Besides, do you really think they would waste their time waiting for a tall gangly kid to come waltzing into the mercantile?”

“Can we skip the insults?”

Those were hardly insults, since Casey had grown quite fond of his gangly frame, but he left it at that. “Rudy struck up a conversation with the shopkeeper. He fed him a line about being from Boston – and right there shows your friend is an idiot if he fell for that.”

“And while we’re at it, can we skip your colorful elaborations?”

Casey made a noncommittal noise. “Rudy told him he was passing through on the way to Denver, but he had promised a beau of his that he would stop at any Podunk town east of the city, and see if anyone knew her lost brother.”

“They had no idea I was in Colorado,” Chuck argued. “I bought a ticket to California.”

“The clerk at the station remembered a city boy who looked out of place. One that bought another ticket under another name – for a friend?” Casey had to snort at the lameness. “To Kiowa.”

“I had changed out of my clothes, you know. And I can’t help being tall. It’s not easy hiding in a crowd!”

“Nothing but farms and small towns. So ... it was easy enough to pass through a few isolated districts. Who would live out there, anyway? Rudy simply had to walk into the right establishment and wave that letter under Morgan’s nose. He said that if the kid just wanted to stay out of sight, would your friend at least make sure he got the note?”

Chuck’s lashes swept down as he looked at his hands. “Morgan was trying to help me?”

“According to Rudy’s story, your friend told him he knew of someone who could be the man he was looking for, and that he would take the letter. Well, after that, it was just a simple matter of a little cajoling. Turns out, Morgan was worried about his friend, and thought this might cheer him up.” Casey’s voice got a little throaty, and he let the meaning sink in as he caressed the sensitive bare skin of his wrist. “It seems ... he had spent the last month moping. Not quite himself.”

Chuck cringed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. If he thought it helped hide his burning cheeks, he was sorely mistaken.

Missed me, huh?

Then the kid cocked his head to one side, absorbed in his thoughts, but slowly, something altered in his expression. “Well. That’s how it happened?”

“All of it worth hearing, anyway.”

“I get it.” Chuck’s eyes darkened, and deliberately, he twisted his wrist until Casey had no choice to let go or he would hurt him. “One more thing that I almost forgot, though.”

Warning bells. His tone had changed. “I don’t think I want to hear it.”

“How could I forget that you’re the biggest fucking liar I’ve ever met!”

Casey stared, not moving except for the muscle twitching in his jaw. So much for progress. He was back to wanting to wring his skinny neck. “Listen, cupcake –”

“Why in the world would I believe that load of crap?” Chuck jerked away harder than he intended and almost toppled the barrel, managing to gain his balance at the last second. “You know what I hate more than you? The fact that you dragged my friend into your wild story!”

Casey narrowed his eyes at the kid. Options were sorely limited. Part of him wanted to hold him down ... make him listen. Part of him wanted to fuck common sense and the truth right into him.

Don’t be stupid. Yeah, it was awfully damned enticing, but a momentary flash of logic told him that thinking with that head was the one that got him here in the first place.

You want a power struggle, is that it? Count to ten. Slowly. Casey squashed any thoughts that involved clinging, pulling, digging in, or jerking him off with no intent but to only prove he could bring it out of him whenever he chose.

Fuck. Okay. What number was I on?

One, two –

Casey filled a half minute of cold silence by sorting through the last items in the sack. His back was to the kid, but if he even thought of making a run for it again ... well, Casey had no problem with a leash.

“Sometimes the truth has a way of making you wish you never asked,” Casey observed mildly.

“Funny how lies have the same effect,” Chuck added.

Casey rolled his eyes before glancing at the bit of frayed rope that lay next to the bag. Might as well get to it since it wasn’t going to get easier, he thought. Slipping it into his hand, he walked around the barrel to the back side of it. This time, he didn’t mind the fact that the kid purposely veered his head to the other side, demonstrating his little hissy-fit by not looking at him. Didn’t need to see what would follow.

“It’s the truth, though, kid,” and while Casey spoke, the end of the rope slid through one of his belt loops.

The slight tug seemed to get Chuck’s attention. “Hey ... hey! What – what are you doing back there?” He sat up straight, one arm swooping behind his back, intending swat Casey away. “That’s my – are you –?

“I don’t plan on chasing you down again, kid,” Casey told him, tying off the knot. The rope was already snaked around the pole and through two belt loops, so it didn’t matter that he had begun tussling and squirming from his seat on the barrel. “Besides, for what I have planned next, I need your hands free.”

“My hands?” The words were meant to be reassuring, but somehow, pancake didn’t quite take it that way. For some ungodly reason, the kid’s struggling intensified, and when he figured out that would get him nowhere, the little shit had the nerve to raise his fists. At him.

“Easy, kid. Whatever you’re thinking -”

“If you think ... that I’m going to let you ... touch me,” Chuck stammered, keeping his fists up, “you are crazier than I already think you are.”

Casey glanced dismissively at his balled up hands. “I should know the answer to this,” he said, “but are you some kind of idiot?”

Chuck’s brows drew down. His fists lowered just an inch or two. “Am I .... what now?”

“I mean, genius, whatever is going through your head, shut it down.” Casey motioned with the tiniest jerk of his head. “And put those away. Makes you look like an imbecile.”

“Hey, I do know how to -”

“You weren’t made for fighting, goddess. Better suited for other things.”

“I – I am not!” Chuck turned beet red at the innuendo. “Untie me – or if you plan on leaving me like this, just go, okay?”

Casey couldn’t repress the curl of his lips. “I don’t plan on that, either.”

“Why – what are you thinking?”

Casey turned to him and took a deep breath. “If you hate me now, kid, you’re really going to enjoy the next part.”

“Er, next?”

“For starters, I’m going to need that shirt you’re wearing,” Casey said. His eyes skimmed over the kid’s chest and he signaled, already impatient. “Preferably without the yapping that goes with it, eh?”

Chuck tilted his head at him. Bafflement gave way to realization, which took an immediate right turn detour to no fucking way. “You’re joking, right?”

“Is this my joking face?” Casey asked, folding his arms across his chest in case the answer wasn’t obvious.

“Trick question. But - the answer’s no. You can’t have my shirt.”

Just as Casey expected, the kid was going to make this difficult. “Let’s go.” He took a step closer to the barrel. “Hand it over, brown eyes.”

Chuck, proving he was ever-exasperating, hurriedly folded his arms over the rumpled, soiled top. “I’m – I’m serious, you know. I’ll punch you if ... well, you try anything.”

“Good to know.” Casey assessed his body language, arms crossed obstinately, and took a moment to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to ask this again. Nicely,” he added in a mutter. “Need to see what’s under your shirt, kid.”

“You’ve seen it plenty,” Chuck answered.

“Start on the buttons.”

“Do you just not listen to anything? Or is it selective deafness?”

Casey proved his hearing was just fine by ignoring him. He moved forward another stride. Then another, until his hip knocked against one of Chuck’s knees. When the kid started, the edginess almost made Casey back up a step, but this was for his own good.

“I’m not going to hurt you, kid -”

“I’m not going to let you,” Chuck cut in.

“- but I will take it from you if you don’t do it yourself.”

“If I remember correctly, the last time you took my shirt, you made a bandage out of it for a bullet hole in your arm!”

Casey looked down and had to smile outright. “That wasn’t the last time, kid. As I recall, there were a few more after that.”

Chuck averted his eyes, suddenly finding the cracked floorboards interesting. “I already told you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

Getting a little brazen, Casey put his hands on the kid’s thighs and dug in. “The only bandages I’m making this time are for you. Got that?”

“Well, I - don’t trouble yourself.”

Casey didn’t move. “I want to see what those men did to you.”

The kid stopped fidgeting and turned his face up to him. Even in the semidarkness, the strength in his snapping dark eyes reminded Casey again why he did this. No other man he knew had eyes like that; translucent as dried poplar leaves, strands of golden light. “I’m not hurt,” Chuck said, as if saying it made it true. “I’m past that now.”

“Is that so?” Casey clenched his jaw with the fierceness of one who will tolerate no argument. “When you tried to run last night –”

“When you tackled me, you mean!”

“- you were favoring this side.” To his point, Casey ran a hand along the left side of the kid’s shirt. “It’s enough to make you recoil when you take in a sharp breath.”

“It’s nothing! Just leave me alone, okay?”

“Yeah? From what I saw, you could barely climb up and down those stairs when you went out for your little walk.”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“So, you take it off, or I do.” Casey’s arms, crossed on his chest, flexed enough to allow Chuck to notice the bulging tendons rolling under his skin. Big deal that he did it on purpose. The kid needed to pay goddamn attention for once. “I thought you’d like the choice. Though you know already, I have no problem doing it.”

Chuck clung to his shirt like a lifeline. “Well, I see the problem. I’m not ... undressing for you.”

“Ah, hell.” Casey briefly looked up at the ceiling, mumbling, then took a few calming breaths. They didn’t work worth a shit. “You may recall, kid, but I’ve seen you in a lot less clothing. It’s not worth getting riled up.”

The kid’s cheeks blossomed, quite pretty under the dirt on his cheek. “I’m not ... riled!”

“Will it make you feel better if I close my eyes?”

“Not really.”

“Good, because I wasn’t intending to.” Casey pointed his chin at the kid’s shirt. “Move it.”

Chuck blinked at him and pulled back, trying to get those extra few inches of breathing room. “There’s the door,” he said, nodding.

Casey grunted. “The hard way, I guess.” When he made a move to unfold his arms, presumably to just skip the revolt and get on with it, the kid finally caught on.

“Okay!” Chuck’s hands tightened for the tiniest of instants before he begrudgingly began unbuttoning the pale blue shirt that had seen better days. “I’m doing this under protest. Only because you’d enjoy it too much.”

“The way I remember it, you only complained that one time,” Casey reminded him, smirking.

Chuck made a face, but catching on that he couldn’t win that one, he slanted his head down and got busy unfastening the buttons. Two, three, and the placket fluttered open, revealing familiar pale flesh, a sprinkling of chest hair, showing smooth pectorals. The kid pulled it free, gingerly, and tossed it over a nearby crate. “There. Happy to humiliate me now?”

Casey didn’t even see the shirt after that. He only focused on what had been hidden beneath it. How many times had he visualized seeing him again, mostly without a stitch of clothing on his body? Too many to count. It was easy to get tangled in images of lips and bodies pressed together, warm torment, when the mind began to wander.

It was nothing like this.

Underneath the patches of dirt and dried mud, sweat, were the bruises the kid wanted to hide from him. Knowing he was being checked out, Chuck crossed his arms over his bare chest and managed to flush deeper. “I told you I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing, huh?” Casey drew his body to his full height, telling himself that in order to help the kid, he had to be clinical and observant about this. “What about here?”

At the light touch on his side, Chuck hitched a breath. “Ah – okay, I’ll admit, that hurts a little.”

“I’m going to have to touch you again, brown eyes, to make sure none of your ribs are cracked.” Casey planted his feet, hip touching his knee. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

As he sat there, half naked, dirty, Chuck looked down at himself and let out a breath. “You’re judging me, aren’t you? Because I was too pathetic to be able to fight them.”

He couldn’t help it, Casey started to tense. “I’m judging that you were too smart to try, and that’s the only reason you’re able to sit here and talk to me right now.”

Hearing the approval in Casey’s voice, Chuck wavered only for a second before he reluctantly unfolded his arms. “Just go easy on me, okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he had asked it that way, and Casey wished like hell that this was the prior circumstances. “This is the part where you should try to relax,” he said.

“You can’t be serious. Relax? Have you forgotten I’m a prisoner? That I’m going to be forced to -”

“No, you’re not. Just ... Jesus, stop fussing.”

Chuck closed his eyes. “Fine. Fine – ah.”

“Did that hurt?”

“No, I just didn’t expect you to – oh. Okay, that might’ve hurt a little.”

Casey only touched him with tentative prods, lightly pressing down here and there, using the kid’s expression as a gauge. “So far, not too bad,” he said under his breath. Cautiously, he lifted one of Chuck’s arms to get a look at what he had pinpointed as the worst of the bruises. “What about here? Is that -”

“Ow!”

“Easy ....” Casey increased his grip as Chuck tried to pull his arm back. “Only need to see if it’s broken.”

The kid gave him a worried look, but his arm slacked some. “All right ... but can you try to be more careful? Geez.”

“Your fighting isn’t helping.”

Having to acknowledge Casey had a point, Chuck gave him a moment of willingness while Casey’s other hand barely brushed over the side of his ribcage. “Just bruised.”

“Forgive me for not celebrating,” Chuck said. “Are you done?”

“No.” Casey, in the gentlest touch he could muster, ran his fingers over the cruelly chaffed flesh. Despite the fact the kid pulled back, trying to reestablish the separation between them, Casey clasped his strong fingers and held on. “I have a question.”

“Haven’t I answered enough?”

“I want to know who did this,” Casey said.

“You know damn well who did this.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Casey came forward again and levelled his eyes with the kid’s. “Which one of them knocked you down and kicked you hard enough to do this.” His no bullshit voice reverberated in the tiny storage room. “I want to hear it. You’re going to tell me exactly how it happened.”

Chuck turned his head and picked at dried dirt on his arm. “I’d rather not relive –”

“Do it,” Casey ordered, deathly quiet. He remained still, waiting.

Chuck looked up and let out a resigned huff. “Your boss – the big one – Liam.”

“Thought I recognized his handiwork.” Casey feathered his thumb close to another bruise, a smaller one that didn’t provoke a wince. “He could be brutal to a three-legged stray if it helped him get what he wanted.”

Eventually, Casey knew, he’d have to kill Liam. In part for the bruised and weary kid in front of him, for hurting someone that had brought a dot of light in his life. And partly for being the one who brought so much darkness.

“What about the others?” Casey asked.

“They ... mostly let him in the beginning. Until those two jerks took over.”

“The one with bad teeth?”

“I can see you’ve been introduced. Not to mention his friend with the scar.” Chuck gestured along the side of his face. “Are you done?”

“Hardly. You still haven’t told me how it happened.” Casey bent over the kid’s back to get a look, and was relieved that he found only dirt and a few scrapes. “Keep going.”

“You’re kind of persistent. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

Casey returned a bland look.

“Okay, then.” Chuck glimpsed up at him and forced out a breath. “I ... didn’t hear them until they were in the barn. I was doing chores - and they snuck up on me. Oh, and the very large guns pointed at my head was the first clue that this wasn’t a social visit.”

“What did they say to you?”

“Liam wanted to know my name.”

Casey lifted a brow. “You told him the truth?”

“No ... I –” Chuck licked his bottom lip, obviously stalling. “I don’t remember. It’s not important.”

The negligible amount of patience Casey was born with was now stretched. He brought his thumb to Chuck’s chin and tipped his head, making him look him in the eyes. “What did you tell him?”

The slight edge to Casey’s tone seemed to provoke his memory. “I wouldn’t say, okay! I wouldn’t answer his questions. I told him to kill me if he wanted to, but I -”

“Christ. That was your plan, huh?” Casey let go of his jaw and shook his head. “Luckily for you, you were too valuable or he would’ve taken you up on that.”

“You don’t know why I’ve done the things I have,” Chuck pointed out, his arms crossing defensively over his chest one more time. “I told you what you wanted to know, didn’t I?”

“Liam threw you on the ground and kicked you until gave him an answer. That’s what happened?”

“I ... I never told him.” As Chuck looked towards the window, Casey took a second to watch his ex-lover’s face. The crooked boards over the window leaked in bands of sunlight, touching his jaw, highlighting his cheeks, the slight bow to his head. It made him look young and trapped, which Casey figured was true on both counts. “In the end ... I didn’t need to.”

Casey continued to eye him, didn’t twitch a muscle. “How did they find out?”

“There were ... letters.” For good reason, it pained him to say it. “I had some from home ... stashed away.”

“God, you were ripe for the plucking, weren’t you?” Casey said gruffly, though he couldn’t hide the relief coursing through him. “You should be thankful Liam found them. He would’ve killed you, idiot.”

“Sympathy really isn’t your thing, is it?”

“And part of me wants to snap your neck for being reckless.”

“If that’s the case,” Chuck mumbled, swiping his hand at some dirt that clung to his chest, “I’d rather hear what the other part wants to do to me.” His head tilted. “Oh. I didn’t -”

“Heh.” Not letting him get out of it that easily, Casey’s lip quirked lewdly. “Soon enough, brown eyes,” and he rubbed his thumb against the unmarked slope of Chuck’s right cheekbone, giving a hint of where his ministrations would turn to next. “Or do you still hate me?”

The kid slanted his head away from Casey’s touch. “As a matter of fact, I’m not going to let myself hate you anymore. Ellie once told me that hate eats away at you. That it gives a person not worthy of you control of your feelings.”

“In other circumstances, I’d say listen to your sister. I also bet a girl that smart probably told you not to run away from your problems.” Casey moved to center himself between the kid’s knees, dropping a big hand on his thigh. “Or when you ... you find what you’re looking for.”

“That’s not the way it is. Not anymore.” Chuck shook his head, a frown crossing his face. “Trouble found me.”

Casey accepted the verdict. In too many ways, it was true.

“Hold still. I’m almost done,” he said, ending the unproductive conversation there. One of his hands roamed down Chuck’s side, warm, his flesh marked by scratches. The hasty examination told him the left side of Chuck’s ribcage had taken the brunt of the damage, but nothing was broken. “Keep your arm up. Yeah, like that.”

Chuck closed his eyes, sighing impatiently. “I know you won’t leave until you think you’re done. So just get it over with.”

Casey studied his face; streaks of dirt, stubble, the bruised cheek. All of him knocked down about eight pegs, he figured, but still fighting every step of the way.

Jesus, what a mess they made.

Now that Chuck had his eyes shut, Casey’s attention lingered on the slope of his chest, the tapering of his stomach, long narrow thighs under his jeans. Even a bit beaten and dirty, the kid still carried that clueless sense of being beautiful without knowing it.

Casey dropped his hand, giving up the feel of heated skin. Hell, he had touched every part of his body, but by the end of the days at the farm, he didn’t even need to. Amazing that the kid could react to only the sound of his voice. The ‘Drop your pants because I’m going to fuck you now’ register that worked miracles on his lean body. Getting every muscle straining as he brought a hand to close it on his cock -

“Is something wrong? I mean besides the obvious?” Chuck fiddled with the hem of his shirt without opening his eyes. “It’s as if ... I can feel you looking at me.”

Casey straightened. “Looking at your face,” he said.

“My face?” Chuck looked up, immediately suspicious. “Why?”

“Because you look like a damn coal mining hobo, that’s why.”

“You can thank your friends for that.”

“Oh, I’ll be thanking them,” Casey murmured as he turned his back, digging through his bag.

“What are doing over there?”

“Getting this.” Casey held out another cup.

“This? Should I be worried? Well, more worried than I am – which, now that I think about it, would be nearly – what’s in that?” Chuck wormed forward until the loop of rope pulled him back. He gave Casey a sour look, but finally peered down at the cup. “It smells ... familiar.”

“It should. I gave it to you when you fell out of a tree and landed on your big head.” When Casey put the tin cup under his nose, the kid sniffed but did not reach. “Careful. It’s still warm,” Casey said, finally picking up one of Chuck’s hands. “Take it.”

“I fell out of a tree? Funny how the telling of the story has drifted from reality.” Wary, the kid wrapped his fingers around the drink and took another sniff. “You called it ... white willow bark. Is there anything else in the potion I should know about?”

“Nah.” Casey nodded at the cup, meaning drink. “Just a pain killer. There’re only two things that can help bruised ribs, and that’s one of them.”

“What’s the other – oh.” Chuck nearly choked on the first sip. “I know you did not just imply ....”

Casey didn’t, but he tucked his tongue in his cheek and suppressed a mischievous half smile. “Why don’t your drink that before you get yourself ruffled,” he rumbled deeply. “There’s one more thing I need to do, and I hate to tell you, sport, it has nothing to with sullying your slightly tarnished virtue. Again.”

Chuck glared. “It’s a good thing I already have experience at being your hostage. It helps me see through your mask of indifference about my plight.”

“Drink.”

“Wait. You never told me – what’s the one more thing? Because I’m really not in the mood for anything sounding that ominous.”

Casey pulled out a cloth and his canteen. “Washing is ominous?” he asked, wetting the bit of fabric. “That’s not the word I would choose. Maybe you don’t remember it the way I do.”

“As if I’d forget,” Chuck said under his breath and took a careful sip of the tea. “You’re only bringing it up to make me – wait.” When it hit him, the kid tried to spring up from the barrel, but the tug of rope caught him. “Wash? Not a chance. I - I can to do it myself! Besides, I ... need privacy.”

Casey marveled at both his modesty and his amnesia, but decided to lay off on teasing him this time. “So can I. Without hurting things you’d rather not.”

“What part of go did you not understand?”

“Just relax, brown eyes. It’s a wash rag. That’s it. I’m not going to do anything but get off a couple layers of dirt. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Chuck knitted his brows, concentrating on the rag, Casey’s face, and his chance of getting out of this. “Well. Only if you -”

“Stop thinking so much, eh?” Laying a hand on his face, Casey cupped his jaw, fingers touching strands of hair. “I’ll start here. I want to see what’s under the mud.”

Chuck remained nearly motionless, not resisting, not passive, but as if he held an energy that would not be allowed to break loose. Clinching his fingers, Casey felt his cheeks were warm as he remembered, damp from sweat and nerves. “Ow ... easy .... easy,” the kid said.

“I’m being gentle, aren’t I?”

Without moving his head, Chuck shifted his gaze. “Yes.” There was some welcome shyness in his voice. “I’ll admit you are.”

“Good. Then let me finish. You keep working on the tea.”

After a quizzical look, Chuck went quiet, sipping the tea and letting Casey finish washing away the dirt on his face. And knowing gentleness was new territory for him, Casey did what he could, scrubbing with a light touch at his temple, his neck, before lowering the rag to the crook of his shoulder.

Casey wet the cloth again. When he moved the rag briefly to his ribcage, Chuck hitched a breath and took the last sip of tea. He handed off the cup without a word, rested the crown of his head against the post. “Watch out ... there on the left side,” he mumbled.

“Hurts?”

“No. Tickles.”

“Guess I forgot,” Casey said, giving him an amused look. His fingers grazed the rounded curve of a pec, and he paused to wipe a suspicious looking mark. “Does that hurt?”

“Just a little ... ah, okay, maybe more than that. Gentle ....”

“Hold still. Missed some.” Dripping cool trickles down his neck, he delicately glossed over his jaw, dabbing at the mark on his cheek. “It looks to be just a small cut. Not too deep.”

“Yippee,” Chuck grumbled, not opening his eyes.

“Wouldn’t want anything to change that face, would you?” Casey’s hand traced over the side of his temple before he wetted the rag. “Frankly, it took a while, but I’ve ... gotten used to it.”

“You’re so full of shit, you know that?” Suddenly uncomfortable, Chuck moved one of his knees, accidently pressing it to Casey’s.

Casey pressed back, thigh against his knee, leaving it there. “Don’t move.”

“M’ not,” Chuck said softly. He obliged, however, not moving a muscle, succumbing to Casey’s sure hands, making him aware of every breath.

“Good news, kid.”

“What?” Chuck asked, but he let out a moan of sheer ecstasy as Casey ran the rag lower, trailing over his the back of his neck.

“That bruise and the small cut on your face was the worst of it. You’ll be good as new.”

“Too bad.” At the touch of the cloth under his jaw, Chuck rolled his neck to the side, giving Casey access. “I could use a scar or two. Who knows? Maybe I could pull off the bad ass look?”

“Oh, I’m sure a scar would do it,” Casey said quietly. Wiping Chuck’s neck, he remembered when the kid used to cave in like a paper house in a rain storm when Casey put his lips there. “That and your aim will keep them shaking out of their boots.”

“Hah.” Chuck, not bothering to open his eyes, used the post to steady his back. “Are you done?”

Casey began to trail the rag down his arms, over to his upper body. “I’ll get the rest of it off your chest and ribs ... if you want me to.”

The kid stretched slightly in his seat. “I’m only letting you do this because I’m tired ... and I smell like something that’s been left out in the barnyard.”

Casey leaned over his curly head and sniffed. “That might be an insult to Vic.”

“Have I told you how much I hate your sense of humor?”

“Are you going to keep squirming every time I touch you there –”

“Ow! Okay, okay, I really didn’t mean ow there. I just meant ... be careful.”

“Still haven’t figured out all your sounds,” Casey muttered.

“Welcome to my world,” Chuck muttered right back, and he slid a hand through his thick hair, pretending to go back to sleep again. Maybe he thought it put distance between their bodies – even with Casey touching every inch of his bare chest.

“Hurt?”

“Mm.”

“You’ve dropped a lot of weight.” Casey made a mental note of stealing double rations from Jo’s pantry. The kid was going to need his energy. “What’d they feed you?”

“That ... was the first good meal I’ve had in almost week.”

The pang of guilt drove like a railroad spike into Casey’s gut. “You won’t have to worry about that,” he said, wringing out the cloth. Water rolled down Chuck’s stomach, following the dent of his navel, lower until is trickled to a halt at the top of his jeans. Watching the path of cool liquid, Casey had to wonder what it would be like to really touch him again. Not like this, not methodically, detached. A touch that gave way to sheer response, reaction. Bending down, laying his lips on every mark as the kid’s chest flexed, vibrating under the caress of his mouth -

“Casey? That ... does sting a little.”

Casey shook his head at his own foolishness and began scrubbing a patch of dirt ... near one of his nipples. “Almost done.”

He already knew they were sensitive. That first night in the loft, while they validated their potent attraction with skill, exploring, Casey had lowered his head and licked the hard little nub, rolling it between teeth. God, did the kid buck up into his hand when he did that. That night, it made Casey want to taste the rest of him ... get his tongue over the last line of his ribs before his flat stomach, bring a hand around to take hold of that firm ass ....

“Wow,” Chuck murmured. He brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “Never had a meal ... make me so sleepy.”

Casey wrung out the rag and set the folded cloth on the table. Chuck wasn’t anything close to being clean, but less grimy, anyway. Only a tub or a bubbling stream would get all of the dirt and mud from him, but the kid was at least passable for human now.

As he moved in to Chuck again, their knees interlocked, one of Casey’s between his, he rested a hand on the kid’s bicep. There was nothing to stop him from falling forward except Casey’s ready hand, sliding around his shoulders. Well, that and the rope still tied to a belt loop, but Casey preferred to think it was all him.

“What’re you doing?” the kid asked sleepily.

Did Chuck know how hard this part was for him? Hell, it went completely against his nature and every piece of Casey’s being, but while he was away, he came to a devastating conclusion. He told himself if he was going to this, he had to stop telling lies to the man he wanted to be with.

“It wasn’t the meal, kid.”

Chuck’s brown eyes slowly opened, brimming with distrust. The kid pressed his lips together, so Casey moved his touch there, fingers tracing them. Then he ran his knuckles along the slope of his rigid jaw, and Casey felt the kid’s arm betray a slight quiver.

“I don’t think I want to know the answer,” Chuck said, swallowed. “But what the heck are you talking about?”

“Ashwaganda,” Casey replied, and now that he had the kid locked safely between his arms, he reached around his back, untied the loop of rope. “It’s the ... other cure I was telling you about.”

“Other - ?” Chuck stiffened, wanting to get out of his arms, but managed only to sway. “Hang on. What ... what does that mean?”

Casey steadied him. “You’ll be fine.”

“Ashwa – whatever! You d-did something to me?!”

“Just the tea, pancake.”

Chuck tried to gape up at him, but the lazy eye blinks softened the effect. “But I ... dr-drank the tea!”

“Yep.”

“You lied to me!”

“Hey.” Casey felt the weight of the kid’s upper body beginning to press hard against him. “I did not lie. I told you there were two things.”

“You didn’t tell me what the other one was!” Chuck blurted, eyes falling to half-mast.

“If I would’ve told you, would you have taken it?”

“No!” Chuck tried to shove him off, but the dose of sedative, along with a firmly built man solidly between his thighs hindered him completely. “You ... you drugged me?!”

“And I knew your petticoat would get all caught up between your legs if I told you. See? I was right.”

“How ... could you do that?!”

“You’ve got pits under your eyes. You’re restless as a cat on fire. This way, you’ll get your sleep without moving.” Casey leaned in, grazed his lips over his hair. “That’s the only way you’ll heal, kid. And maybe ... once you’re well and thinking straight, we can ... finish what got started.”

“F-finish?” Chuck lifted a hand, threw a clumsy punch at Casey’s face. “I’ve already finished with you.”

The larger man ducked it easily and held on, molding his body protectively into the curve of his, waiting for the fight and his consciousness to buckle under. “Got to give it up, kid. For now, anyway.”

“God ....” As Chuck gasped it, Casey bent down to grab the shirt without letting go, and slipped Chuck’s arms into the sleeves. Had he thought it through, he would’ve had the kid on the bedroll before it knocked him out. Casey held him to his chest, and a minute later, an unruly head of hair landed on his shoulder. So close, yet sinking into a poignant loneliness, the kid went quiet and utterly slack, face buried in his neck.

“All you have to do is trust me,” Casey told his sleeping ex-lover, awkwardly sprawled against him. At the soft breathing along his chest, Casey held him for a minute, wondered if he could kiss him.

Nah. It made him feel ... dirty. He’d only take it if the kid wanted to give it, and Chuck had made it clear he didn’t belong to him any longer.

Laying Chuck down on his bedroll, Casey arranged his arms and legs in a way he thought would be comfortable, at least. “God, I almost forgot that about you,” he said surveying the kid’s relaxed face, dark circles under his eyes. “What a stubborn pain in the ass you are.”

Casey sat back on his heels over him, ready to rise, but there was one thing missing. He had to do it. Only his face, a touch. Casey laid his hand on Chuck’s warm cheek, thumb caressing the side of his nose. The kid looked like a bit of nothing, and yet he could feel the weight this city boy had placed on his heart.

Casey stared down at the hand on his cheek. He took a breath.

It was the first time since Chuck was brought to him that it happened. Only like this, caught in a dreamless sleep, the kid didn’t pull away from his touch.

-x-End Chapter Three Sins Fell Angels-x-


	4. Chapter Four

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Four

“And just what do you think you’re doing, you big hound? Out of my larder with you!”

For the second time in forty-eight hours, Casey was threatened with a long-handled instrument. Except this time it was Jo’s wooden spoon, landing with a bit of force on the rounded backside of his jeans.

“The hell ....” Casey spun around and shot a sour look at the auburn haired spinster. The swat had some might behind it, but he refused to let out a womanly squawk, or worse, rub his abused backside to let on that it stung.

“Out!”

“I live here, don’t I?” he said, looking down his nose at her. An easy feat, since she was a good foot shorter than him. “I’m just borrowing a few provisions. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Jo’s eyes drifted down, traveling over the spot where her spoon had landed. “Now, Johnnie, you may have a very fine backside, but I will use this again if you don’t come clean.”

“Provisions,” Casey repeated, stepping backwards. The burlap bag in his hand clanked with the few items he hand managed to gather, so there was no feigning innocence. “Besides, there’s plenty here. We have some to spare.”

“You aren’t going anywhere, are you?” she asked, the wooden spoon still waving about. “I thought you were staying close for the next week. Why the provisions, laddie?”

“Nosey wench this morning, eh?” He tempered his barb with a cheeky smile as he tied off the top. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m -”

“Aye, you’re wrong there. Nosey all the time, lad. The bag?”

Evidently she couldn’t understand the answer to that one was ‘none of your business’, so he began strolling towards the back door that led to the garden, hiding the sack under his arm. When she moved to block his path, he gently but firmly used his bulk to sidestep the woman. “I’ll be back for supper, Jo.”

As he reached for the knob, she spoke. “It’s the boy, isn’t it?” he heard her say mildly.

Casey came to a halt. Careful to school his features, he gave her a curious look over his shoulder before pivoting around slowly to face her head on. “The boy?”

“Don’t play dumb, mo daor. The boy Liam and the hoodlums found? The one locked up in the barn loft?” She smoothed a few red locks from her temple and blew a breath of exasperation, her pink cheeks expanding like bellows. “Unless there’s more than one yer keepin’?”

Given that she obviously knew too much, Casey set the bag down, a very controlled movement, and straightened to his full height. “I sincerely hope for your sake, Josephine, that the secret of Liam’s ... little bargaining chip hasn’t been bandied about down at the mercantile.”

“Now if you think you’re going to get biggity with me, you’re barking up a knot, Johnnie.” She eyed him narrowly, green eyes glinting, her hands landing on her broad hips. “All the doings I’ve witnessed out here for years? I’ve been through the mill, I have, and has there ever been a word?”

The answer was no, of course, or she’d be gone by now. Liam dealt swiftly with traitors and loud mouths, even those of the female persuasion.

“You’ve proven you know how to keep your mouth shut, I reckon,” he finally admitted. “But how did you find out about Liam stashing the kid here?”

“Those two mudsills.” She tilted her head in the direction of the bunkhouse. Behind the corral sat the pine-slat outbuilding, which was nothing more than a place for Liam’s hired thugs to sleep, get drunk, and play cards between jobs. None of them stuck around long. They either moved on to other rackets or conveniently found a way to get their idiot selves killed.

But Liam needed someone close by willing to get dirty when a situation called for a heavy hand. They were simply his tools, nothing more than that.

“Mudsills?”

“It was them that said it.”

“The two new boys out back?”

“Yes. They came into the kitchen a few nights ago,” she said. “Smelling like liquor and stumbling like mules. I tried to shoo them out of here, but they’re hard cases, those two. The shorter one – with the ..?” Jo paused to draw a finger down her cheek. “He said to fork over anything left from supper.”

“And you didn’t take the spoon to them?” Casey repressed a smile and crossed his arms over his chest. “I should be offended, Jo.”

“Mm. Don’t be, laddie. They don’t have the backside you do.” With a saucy smirk, Jo pointed the spoon at a certain part of his anatomy and then the larder. “I could see they were roistered, and I thought if I gave them something, they’d shin out.”

“But they didn’t, I take it?”

“No, they sat at the table, eating and talking scuttlebutt.” She frowned at the memory. “They ... talked about the boy they brought in. It was bad enough, Johnnie, the things they did to him ... but it was worse than that.”

Try as he might to remain detached, Casey’s chest felt cold and hot at the same time. Easy, easy, he reminded himself, forcing his fists to unclench.

“What did they say?” he asked in a voice that surprised him by its coolness.

“Terrible things.” Her bushy hair moved as she shook her head. “They beat him – no good reason! That boy couldn’t defend himself. And they sat at my table and laughed ‘bout it, John. They said ... it wasn’t nearly as fun after the first day, because the boy wouldn’t cry out anymore.”

It was getting harder to listen to the voice of reason in his head. No, scratch that. It was going to take every last fiber of his being not to kill them this morning. “I don’t think they left it at that,” Casey said. “I can see from your face, there’s more.”

“Aye, there is. The ugly one with bad teeth? He was the one doing the most talkin’. Said they purposely gave him only enough food and water to stay awake. Otherwise, it would take their fun away if he passed out.” Her face reddened with anger. “There was ... one other thing. Hateful, it was. Can’t say it.”

“Tell me.”

Her coppery brows drew down and she immediately became uncomfortable. “Just take your provisions and go.”

Casey crossed the room in two steps and took one of her hands. He put a finger under her chin and forced her eyes up. “Jo,” he said quietly. “You can tell me. I want to know what they said.”

The woman stared up at him for a long moment, mouth opening gradually as she worked up the words. “Those rips said they wanted to ... gah.”

“Josephine –”

“Damn them,” she whispered, wet her lips to speak. “I heard them say they wanted to ... abuse ... a Molly boy.”

Casey studied her. “Those were their words?”

“Yes. They said a young man like that – well, trust me, those weren’t their words - doesn’t belong here ... or deserve to live. Just because he might be different.” She lowered her eyes, abashed, eluding his piercing blue stare. “Always the same, Johnnie. Some men get caught between hate and trying to play ... well, whatever God there is. They’ll try it, too.”

Casey nodded, momentarily struck speechless. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. “Tell me all of it,” he said, and found now his hands clenched involuntarily. “What else?”

“One of them – he goes by the name of Jacob - that’s the one, a little blowhard, he is. Savage as a meat axe. He was the ringleader. He said he’d ... give it to him in a way that would make him never want a man again. Forget that he liked ....”

Cock, she couldn’t say.

Jo pulled back from Casey and went to the cook stove, busying herself by feeding it a few small logs. Taking two cups out of the cupboard, she quietly poured from the coffee pot, handing one steaming mug off to him.

Casey took a drink, appreciating the silence. It gave him time to consider the twelve dozen ways he could kill those mother fuckers, letting him narrow it down to the most drawn out and painful methods. Dissection with the kid’s pitchfork seemed to come out on top.

“Jo, was there anything else they said?” Casey asked, eyeing her for any telltale signs. “Were they making any ... plans?”

“Aye.” The woman hesitated for a moment before she slid the pot to a back burner. “They made a bet between themselves,” she confirmed in a low voice. “I couldn’t hear that part of what they said, but it makes me worried for the boy.”

“Don’t be, Jo.” Casey looked from her face, wreathed in red hair and eyes full of concern, to the window and the bunkhouse beyond it, and he dropped a hand on his holster. “Nothing’s going to happen to him.”

“That’s why I’m telling you.” She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and smiled, a little bleakly. “You’re not like the others, mor milis. You never have been, never will be. A good heart can’t be hidden, no matter how hard you’ve tried.” Jo lifted a palm and laid it on his cheek. “You’ve never gotten your hands dirty ... like the bad cases he hires. You’re different, Johnnie. Never forget that.”

Casey, uncomfortable with the touch and her soft spoken words, carefully backed up a step. “Then I’ll assume you don’t mind if I take these few things?” He picked up the sack and gave it a little jangle. “Just leftovers from breakfast is all.” That was stretching it, he knew, but hey, the kid was looking like a scarecrow – more than his usual wiriness - so maybe a few extra portions had made their way into the bag.

Jo folded up the towel, watching him speculatively. “You like him, don’t you?”

Casey was in the middle of snatching an apple from a bowl on the table, so inspecting the fruit let him avoid her eyes. The problem was sometimes women had the tendency to see too much. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb,” she told him, pointing her chin towards the door. “The boy – whoever that lost soul is up there ... you like him. I can tell.”

“No one deserves to be treated like a dog,” Casey said, groping for an innocuous answer. While he did, he swore he felt something he hadn’t in years. No, that could not be a blush on his neck. Dammit. “The kid’s smart. He has guts, too, even though he’s got every reason to piss his pants with fright. He’s up there alone ... doesn’t know where he is, and certainly doesn’t want to go back to the place where he’s running from. Or who, for that matter.”

“They said something’s wrong with that boy.”

Casey bent his head to look at her, shifting the bag over his shoulder. Apparently, Jo had been listening to the conversation around the dinner table last night as well. “No more than the rest of us,” he replied, only the twitch in his jaw revealing that she struck a nerve. “He’s different, that’s all.” And there was nothing wrong with him that a good kick in his stubborn ass wouldn’t solve.

Jo looked away to swat at a fly that had dared to enter her kitchen, but Casey swore he saw something that looked like tears standing in her green eyes. “Johnnie, before you go, I have something for you.”

“Not the working end of that spoon, I hope.”

She smiled despite the glistening eyes and went to a cabinet next to the door. “He sounds like a boy who could use a sweet. A piece of chocolate cake, perhaps? Made it this morning. I’m saving it for dinner, but I suppose no one would miss one piece of it. Hm?”

He watched her run a knife through the frosting, portioning off a good-sized slice, and after she wrapped it in a cloth napkin, she placed it in the bag.

“Thank you, mo bhean.” Casey tweaked her cheek and pushed his hat back on his head. As he walked to the door that led to the yard, something occurred to him. “Jo?”

She was already busy with morning dishes, but looked over at him. “Yes, laddie.”

“His name’s Chuck,” Casey said, giving her a half smile. “Just thought you should know that. He won’t say thanks, but he means to if he could.”

-x-

The first clue that trouble was brewing behind the door to the store room was the scratching sound in the lock. At the soft scitch and whir, Casey veered his head down and stood motionless in the hallway, noticing the door knob wiggle to the left, then the right.

Well, it looked like someone was up and kicking today after his little forced nap. The kid had been knocked out completely the day before, overcome by the drug and the need for the kind of healing slumber that makes one forget.

Last night after dark, Casey had discreetly made his way out to the barn, his breath misting in the cool, rainy air, to check on him. He had readjusted Chuck’s blankets and sat for a while, drinking in the sight of the sleeping kid, watching his chest rise and fall with each breath. He looked vulnerable like that, and it made Casey want to stay by his side until lights out.

When Casey did leave, he didn’t bother tying him, because what was the point? The ashwaganda did its work, maybe more than he bargained for since dosing a person was always tricky. The door was locked, and Chuck was safe for the night.

Maybe that was a mistake.

With the lock now rattling, Casey guessed that the kid was up, hungry, and on the road to recovery – which meant he would be even a bigger pain in the ass.

What was he doing? Listening, Casey slung the bag off his shoulder, wondering how much longer he should let him fiddle with it -

The door popped open.

“Casey?”

At Chuck’s sudden appearance in the doorway, Casey gave in to a moment of flustered gaping until his cool-as-ice senses kicked in. “What the hell,” he growled, “do you think you’re doing, kid?”

“Oh, no,” Chuck replied under his breath, and something fell out of his hand, clattering to the floor. “Oh crap.”

“Not an answer, cupcake.” Casey barreled forward, forcing Chuck to step back as his shoulders filled the doorway because there was no fucking way that kid was getting around him. “You have three seconds to explain, pancake, before I hog tie you to that post.”

“Um,” Chuck began, pausing to shoot a furtive glance past Casey’s shoulder. “Escaping?”

“Escaping,” Casey repeated, fighting the incredulous stare, because of course Chuck had somehow managed to pick the lock. “Mind telling me how you did it?”

“It wasn’t that hard, actually.”

“Not for the boy genius, I suppose,” Casey mumbled, shutting the door behind him. He stared at Chuck for the longest minute, making the kid look away guiltily and back up another step. “And where exactly did you think you’re going? Or did you not consider the dangers that far ahead?”

Chuck set his jaw and tightened his fingers around something else in his hand before taking it behind his back. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but if I can work your lock, you big jerk, I think I can find a way to disappear.”

“Heh. Really. To where?”

“Away, that’s where! Anywhere you’re not.”

Casey gave him a dirty look and let his eyes scan the room. The table had been moved, crates were tipped on their sides, contents spilling out on the floor. Grain bags had been ransacked, though Casey could see they held nothing more than loose feed or old scraps of wood.

Still, that little shit.

“I see you’ve been up for a while and maybe got bored, eh? Needed to fill your time with tidying up the room? Find something that would help you jimmy the lock?”

“Which I did managed to do – and if you would get out of my way -”

“Yeah?” Casey stalked forward like a predator, sending Chuck backwards until his butt hit the table. “Those two twits were supposed to make sure the room was clean ... so what did you find?”

“It’s called none of your damn business.”

“Oh, it’s my business, kid,” Casey assured him with some grimness. “Until we are out of here, you are my business.”

Chuck pressed his lips together and shook his head. The trapped reflection in his brown eyes told Casey he was not going to cough up his methods willingly.

Which wasn’t a problem, Casey noted, skimming over him before flipping one of the barrels. “Let me guess. None of these crates had anything worthwhile, eh, tiger?”

Ignoring him, Chuck folded his arms over his chest and looked away.

“But the barrel ... now what did you do?” Casey snorted, and knowing he wouldn’t get an answer, he got down on his haunches to pick through the broken pieces of the container. “Now what is this,” he said as he lifted one of the copper bands. “The nails are missing - and one of the matching rings.”

“It’s nothing,” Chuck insisted.

“Looks like you couldn’t find any metal ... until you saw this. So you took the barrel apart – with what, I have no idea – but you fashioned a pick from the nails and the missing copper hoop.” Casey shifted his eyes up to search the kid’s now peeved expression. “Is that it, genius?”

“Go to hell.”

“And I take it you’re feeling better?” Casey replied succinctly. Tossing one of the pieces to the side, he rose to his feet and opened his palm, flat. “All right. Let’s go. Whatever you have behind your back, put it in my hand.”

Chuck tried to hide his wince. To be fair, he was doing a fairly decent job of giving Casey the Who me? I’m innocent expression, but regrettably for the kid, he was dealing with the Master.

“I don’t have anything,” he faltered. “It’s over there ... on the floor.”

“Except whatever you slid behind your back.” Casey leveled an unimpressed stare at the kid and waggled his fingers. “Hand it over, twerp.”

“Don’t you trust me, John,” Chuck said, holding out his palms. “There’s nothing else.”

Casey rolled his eyes and maneuvered his body in front of him until he was toe to toe with the kid. Chuck had nowhere to go, and standing in the same square foot of space, heat and nerves vibrating from the younger man, Casey couldn’t help but get another eyeful of him.

Clothes torn and dirty, face smudged. Spooked as hell. Breathing harder. And maybe it was that sharp intake of breath, or his dark-eyed bewilderment, his soft mouth, but Casey had to suppress the urge to kiss the little idiot senseless.

“Give me whatever you put behind your back,” Casey demanded.

“It’s nothing. Honest!”

Casey did lean forward at that, noses nearly touching. “Kid?”

“You’re – can you back up?” Chuck pulled away, or tried to at least. “Please?”

“Is there anything that tells you I’d have a problem throwing you over my knee, and going through your back pockets myself?”

“Um – well, I don’t –”

“Okay.” Casey moved, catching his hand, all set to spin him around.

“Here! Take it!” A nail and a piece of copper flew out of his pocket. A millisecond later, Chuck, eyes as big as saucers at the prospect of being thrown over Casey’s knee, brought up his hands in surrender. “You’re – a little crazy, you know that!”

Casey grunted and picked up the nail. When he took in the god-awful mess the kid had made of his cell, he slid his hat from his head, wiped his brow. Cell. Casey hated using that word but there was no whitewashing Chuck’s predicament.

“Christ.” Not content to stop there, he tacked on a few more curses and turned to look back at the kid. He was leaning against the table, surveying the upheaval and probably wondering if he would get out of here without getting his ass kicked for this little stunt. “Come on, let’s get it picked up.”

“I’m not helping you,” Chuck said, willfulness returning now that the danger of being spanked had dwindled.

Oh, you are so wrong on both counts, puppy.

“Know something, kid? If you’re mad at me now, in about one minute, you’re going to be mad and have a red ass to go -”

“Well, well, well,” someone broke in. “That crazy kid get in trouble, I wonder?”

God, what the hell else could go wrong?

By the time Casey angled around to face the interlopers, he really hated himself for asking that question.

More than that, more than broken slats and tipped up boxes, or that damn kid still trying to get away from him, he hated the expression on those ruffian’s ugly mugs. Hated the way they tried taunting him with their smart aleck grins, trying to show that they were watching him. Thinking they could do the job better if they were given the chance.

Rotted Teeth walked through the doorway, resting an elbow on a broken barrel, while Scar Nose leaned against the table. The two morons stood like cocks in the henhouse, making a show of being surprised by the ransacked room. Liam walked past them and stood near the window, assessing the damage as well, but the difference was he said nothing at all.

“Hey, we didn’t interrupt any fun, did we?” Rotted Teeth asked, dingy grin flashing.

Casey ignored both of them and raised a brow at his boss. “Is there a problem?”

“I should be asking you that, eh, laddie?” Liam spoke before he swiveled around, taking his time to tamp out a cigarette under his boot. When he did face him, he didn’t bother looking at Chuck, only locking eyes with Casey. “Appears your charge has been busy? Something wrong here?”

“I’d say,” Jacob interjected under his breath, laughing.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Casey answered, taking hold of the kid’s shirt. “He tried to find something to pick the lock.” They didn’t need to know he succeeded. It reminded Casey how resourceful Chuck was. It also reminded him of what a pain in the ass that particular characteristic could be.

The mention of Chuck made him get a good look at the kid. He saw a flash of pain in his expression, his involuntary reaction to the men. Their unexpected presence changed the air in the room, and he seemed to do just as he had the first night. Casey felt it, cold fear trapping the kid’s body. His breathing became raspy and it surprised the hell out of the larger man that he edged closer to him, no longer trying to wrench free.

Shit, don’t let it be one of those panic attacks.

Casey’s hand automatically circled around his nape, and hidden from their view, he swept a thumb under the loose hair at his collar, reassuring and tender. To the others, it might’ve looked like he was getting ready to strangle the kid – and it had crossed his mind ten minutes ago.

“Sit,” Casey said, using the hand on the back of his neck to steer him down. For once, Chuck didn’t argue, and he kept his eyes down as he took a seat next to the post. While the men watched, Casey then made quick work of a piece of rope, tying the kid’s wrists behind him. Chuck shirked and glowered at him, but hell, what choice did he have?

After securing him, Casey focused on Liam and waited, because he knew his boss wasn’t in the habit of making social visits. It only meant trouble.

“Johnnie, I have a new job for you,” Liam said casually, eyes fully studying him. “I’m afraid a rather unfortunate dispute has arisen with our current project. I need one of your special skill sets. It pertains to Silver Plume Mine.”

“I’ve read the contract,” Casey said. He knew its sale was being used to raise cash for the UP offer. “What’s the dispute?”

“Wagner wants to back out.” Liam deliberately toed a piece of the barrel away with his boot and took a step to the center of the room. “He’s arguing that the mine, in its condition, is no more than a death trap and he won’t go through with it. The Cornish miners working for him are already too superstitious. Jinxed by Tommy Knockers behind the walls of every vein, they think.”

“Death trap?” Casey asked, picking up one of the crates and stacking it.

“Mechanical failure, it appears.” Liam’s shrug indicated his opinion of that. “Wagner says the steam engine is faulty. The lack of ventilation and bucket bailers will either suffocate the poor bastards or drowned them.”

Casey’s eyes narrowed. “And this pertains to me because?”

“You remember Will Barrow. Dirty little mouse of a man in Dawson City?”

“I remember the stench of him,” Casey said. “A railroader – fixed engines for Oregon Pacific and skimmed from their coffers. Until he married a catalogue bride and started working for Newcomb.” Casey slanted a look down at a mess of dark curls, wondering what was going through Chuck’s head at this. It bothered him that the kid didn’t even twitch. “He’s done some work for us in the past. He knows how to be quiet, if I recall.”

“A trait I admire, Johnnie.”

Casey slipped his hat from his head and propped his back against the post. “I’m still not certain what this has to do with my ... new job.”

“I need you to go to Dawson City” Liam said, calmly fixing one of his shirt cuffs. “He needs to be convinced to take a quiet side job for a few days – well paid, of course. I hate the filthy prick, but Will’s the only one within ten counties who knows how to take care of it.”

“So I have to get him to trust me, I take it. Enough to do the job.”

Liam smiled. “No one’s better ... smarter ... at getting a man to do what you need him to than you, Johnnie.”

Sitting at his feet, Casey saw Chuck’s head spring up at the notion of Casey’s persuasive skills. Oh, hell, he did not need to hear that.

“It could take me two days to dry out the drunken cuss just to get him sober enough.”

“I know you can, however. Without violence,” Liam continued, darting a look at the thugs. “I don’t need Wagner coming back on me. And I can’t ask these two to do it. I need someone ... professional.”

“When?” Casey’s eyes strayed to Chuck again, just to make sure he was breathing, because Casey found it hard to believe the kid was being quiet through all of this. He was, his chest was moving, but his body looked tight as a bowstring, as if Casey could touch it and the kid would shatter into pieces.

“This morning. You’ll leave immediately.” Liam merely tipped his chin in the direction of the doorway. “Escort Will to the mine. Make sure he gets the job done. We need the cash from the deal, or our UP offer will be laughed off the table.”

“Now?” Casey pointed a quizzical look at him, remaining steady though Liam’s words spiked a ball of nerves in his stomach. “I thought I had a job to do.”

For the first time since Chuck and Casey had entered the storage room, Liam recognized the kid’s presence. He stood looking down at him intently, like a snake eyeing a bird, and then nudged Chuck with the toe of his boot. “That’s why I brought the lads up here. They’ll take over until you get back. I’ve been assured the boy here will be in good hands.”

It took Casey’s brain a moment to register it. When he did, his fingernails dug into his palms, and the effort to keep his face straight was an act of Hercules.

“I doubt that’s true,” Casey said, moving one hand to rest on his holster as he grasped for something to say. Jesus, his mind was scrambling. “I wouldn’t let them watch a pet rat.”

“They’ll manage, I’m sure.” Liam slid a hand into his jacket, taking out an envelope. “Barrow’s payment. This should be enough to motivate the filthy bastard to -”

“The kid can do it,” Casey said bluntly. Giving a quick look down at Chuck, head bowed, he could only see dirt and perhaps a few specks of dried blood along the back of his neck, thankfully not his shocked expression at hearing his services offered up. “He could fix it without the trouble.”

“What?” Chuck’s head snapped up. “I’m not -”

“This boy. Here,” Liam cut in, prodding the kid’s leg with the toe of his boot. “How do you know?”

“He bragged to me that he can fix anything,” Casey said. “I say we let him try.”

The pinhead twins exchanged skeptical looks and laughed among themselves.

“You do know that you’re wasting your time,” Chuck interrupted. “Because answer is no.”

“Johnnie, he’d say anything to get out of here.” Liam rubbed his forehead, scanned the room, taking in the amount of damage. “What makes you think so?”

“I’m sitting right here, you know,” Chuck said, the suggestion alone making him pull at his restraints. “And you’re insane if you’re asking me to help you. After what you did – gaph. Mmm!”

The gag Casey had suddenly shoved between his teeth choked out the rest.

“As I was saying,” Liam commented dryly. “What makes you think he can do it?”

“Mmgh!”

“Last night, when I gave him some supper, he talked to me about his past.” Casey looked down at Chuck, who was now throwing a shit fit over the conversation and could do nothing about it. “He said he went to Harvard.” Aiming his attention on the dimwits, Casey lifted a brow and translated for them. “That’s what you two would call a ‘fancy Yankee school’.” Turning to Liam, he added, “The boy blathered on for a while, telling me how he didn’t belong locked up – heh.”

“Iph vevh – y bastpah!”

At that, Casey might’ve accidently stepped on Chuck’s toe, hoping his smart boy picked up on the shut the fuck up signal. “There was more. He said that he had a degree in engineering and applied sciences” – the kid was probably regretting that Casey had a knack for remembering everything – “and that there was nothing he couldn’t fix.”

“Hmm.” As Liam contemplated the proposal, he hunkered down, his eyes nearly level with Chuck’s. The kid blinked at him in horrified dismay. “It seems ... risky.”

Casey’s gaze swept over Chuck, resting on his flushed face specifically. He wasn’t about to appear eager, or worse, anxious, for that would only arouse Liam’s suspicion.

But there was no way in hell he was leaving the kid with those two reprobates. Not after hearing what Jo had to say in the kitchen this morning.

“Riskier than fetching the ornery drunk to do a job on the sly?” Casey asked. “It seems like a chance we don’t have to take. Besides the fact it adds a few days – ones that we may not have, depending upon what the little slacker finds up there at Silver Plume.”

Liam bit down on his lip as he mulled over the idea. “So you’re a genius they say?” Reaching over, he put a hand on Chuck’s cheek, pointed his head upward enough to look in his eyes. “Is that true, I wonder, or is it something that just happened in that hazy brain of yours?”

Casey despised the hand on Chuck’s face as much as the implication the kid was nuts. “I don’t think he has any reason to lie about this,” Casey contended. “What would it get him?”

“Fuph!”

“Easy, kid.” Liam puckered his mouth, still considering Casey’s point while inspecting Chuck’s wild-eyed expression. Then he turned to one of the jackeroos. “Jacob. The box that you showed me yesterday. It was one that we ... requisitioned from the warehouse.”

“Yeah?” the man asked, stepping forward when he heard his name. “What about it?”

“Bring me one of those ... objects that you found in there. They appeared to have some monetary value, but maybe they can help resolve this issue.”

“All right,” Jacob said, obviously confused by the order. “I’ll ... be right back, boss.”

Watching him scoot out the door, Casey then gave a brief glimpse at the back of Liam’s head, wondering what the hell was going on between his ears. If he knew anything by now, it was that the man was made up of equal parts of unpredictability and ruthlessness.

“What are you doing,” Casey asked, keeping his voice low, even.

“You’ll see.” Liam didn’t take his eyes from Chuck’s face. “Do I make you nervous, boyo?”

Chuck didn’t attempt to answer through the gag, his breath coming faster, Casey noticed. The only response was to scoot back a few inches, but really, that didn’t do a lick of good. Liam was lethal at any distance.

“Here you go.” Jacob appeared from around the corner holding an odd contraption in his arms. Casey quickly catalogued what he knew about the machine, trying to assess the danger – which would be easier if he could peg what the hell it was. The apparatus was about two feet long and almost a foot tall; three metal cylinders lay on their sides, and one end had tiny brass paddles connected to wires and screws.

No answer came to mind.

“Look at that goofy thing,” the other dirt bag scoffed. “Why would someone want this?”

“Give it to me.” Once Liam balanced the wood base of it in his hands, he held it up for Chuck to get a good look. The kid’s forehead crinkled, his dark brown eyes getting that intense focused look that made Casey realize it was curiosity, not outright fear. “Why don’t you tell me?” Liam’s other hand came up to remove the gag. “What is it?”

Chuck coughed and took a second to wet his lips. Casey could see him debating on whether to answer or to tell him to fuck off. Now was not the time for smart ass remarks, and Casey hoped the kid was astute enough to figure that out.

“It’s ... a dynamo,” Chuck told him begrudgingly. “The Brush model by the looks of it.”

“What the fuck is that?” one of the morons piped up, laughing again.

Chuck actually looked offended, making Casey bite back a smile. “It’s an electrical generator. They’re ... used to convert mechanical energy to -”

“Told you,” Casey broke in, knowing that the more the kid talked, the greater the liability. “He could take care of the job – without the extra baggage.”

“Mm.” Liam fell silent, staring hard at the kid’s face. Then he rested a hand on Chuck’s knee. “We’ll see.”

The dynamo dropped to the floor, bits and pieces of it scattering around Chuck’s feet.

The men jumped at the sound. Shit. No one expected Liam to just let it loose, but his boss simply smiled and wiped his hands on his coat.

When he brought his palm up again to Chuck’s face, the barrel of his ivory handled pistol rested against the kid’s bruised cheek. “Now I want to see you put it back together,” Liam told him. “I’ll give you three minutes. We’ll see how you do.”

Chuck’s mouth hung open. Casey saw his lashes lower, his eyes focusing on the gun. “A t-test?” he stammered. “You’re testing me? Now?!”

Goddammit. Leave it Liam to pull a number like this. There seemed to be no logic or anticipating what he would try next. Down Casey went to his knees, quickly untying the ropes around Chuck’s wrists. You can do it, he wanted to murmur to his ear. Just breathe and relax.

After a slight break in the proceedings, enough time for Chuck to point a disbelieving look at Liam and the gun, he began gathering up the pieces. His hands were shaking, he dropped the paddles – twice – and all the while Liam kept the working end of the muzzle pressed to his neck.

He wouldn’t do it. No way, Casey knew. The kid was too valuable, and he needed him alive for the grand reunion. But with the pistol in his face, Chuck didn’t see the logic.

With an instinct that rivaled nothing Casey had witnessed before, Chuck unbent what he could, reattached wires, tightened the screws, bringing it back together without the tools he was accustomed to having. Casey had to admit, as he saw how Chuck barely faltered, it was a damn fine job considering the proximity of a loaded weapon.

“Here!” Chuck pushed it away and put his hands up in surrender. “It’s done! It may not be perfect, okay? I would need pliers and a field wrench for that – but it will work.”

Though Chuck had pushed the thing at Liam, the larger man didn’t even bother to look at it. Instead, he kept his snake eyes on Chuck, gun pressed to the pale skin of his neck.

“Good boy,” he said at last, smiling, and he tilted his head up to meet Casey’s eyes. “Johnnie, the two of you can leave as soon as you’ve packed the supplies.” Rising, Liam pivoted and walked past the other two before he turned to speak to Casey. “Oh, and laddie? Try to bring back the boy in one piece, eh?”

-x-

Casey put a hand on the door and pushed it open. Maybe he didn’t intend it, but the force sent the rickety hatch swinging on its hinges until it hit the back wall with a resounding crack.

He strode inside. The bunkhouse, home to Liam’s transient hooligans, was dimly lit and stunk of liquor and body odor. A table sat in the center of the room, at the moment littered with playing cards and empty glasses. Smelly bunks lined two of the walls, and a cast iron potbelly stove, serving as the only source of heat, was against the back of the enclosure.

Casey hated the place, only entering when he absolutely had to either fetch an idiot, or remind someone where he stood in the pecking order if a peacock started getting out of hand.

This morning, he had a different kind of mission.

“Hey, Jacob,” the rotted teeth one drawled, “look-y here who dropped by to pay us a visit.”

“La De Da,” imbecile two added on, pushing his hat back on his head. “Decided yer not better n’ the rest of us? Maybe wanna play a game of faro – so we can steal your money without breaking the law?”

Sam laughed at what apparently was a joke at Casey’s expense. “Maybe want one of us to join you on your little journey? So ya know that at least one man can keep an eye on that long-legged boy?”

Casey simply widened his stance, folded his arms over his chest, and peered down at them. “Boots,” he growled.

The two cotton heads chuckled, acting like they didn’t know, though Casey figured pretending ignorance was redundant for these two. “Boots?” Jacob asked. “Whaddya mean?”

“The kid’s boots. You took them. I want them.”

Now the scarred one had the balls to rise up on his toes. “We took ‘em fair and square,” he argued.

“Yeah, why does he need ‘em? He’s going back to his rich daddy, rich life. I can sell those for –”

“Where are they.” Though they were numbskulls, Casey hoped they could discern that that was not a question.

The two men exchanged a glance to fortify themselves and folded their arms, mirroring his stance. “Nope,” one of them said. “Yer not getting ‘em, so you just high-tail it back to the – gck.”

Given that Sam was now hanging from Casey’s fist, his boots swinging a good two feet off the floor, back to the wall, he had a difficult time finishing his sentence.

And when the other ass hat opened his mouth to protest the manhandling of his friend, he found himself in the same predicament.

Casey tightened his fists on their collars and watched two faces become bright red. “I’m going to ask one more time,” he said plainly. “Where are the boy’s boots?”

One pointed and flailed. Casey loosened the hold, allowing him to speak. “Un-under the bed!” he gasped, boots kicking uselessly.

“You do realize I will kill you if they’re not there?”

“Gck – yes!”

“Good.”

Casey dropped them and signaled with only his eyes. Get them.

The two dolts coughed and scattered. Luckily, one returned with a pair of familiar-looking worn boots from under one of the bunks.

“Here! Take them. Jesus Christ! Are you crazy? You coulda killed us!”

Casey grunted his condolences, tipped his hat sarcastically, and left with the boots under his arm.

-x-  
-x-

They pushed along, stopping for no more than a quick lunch, not bothering with a fire. It was a simple meal of preserved fruit, bread, and cheese to hold them over until they reached Silver Plume’s superintendent’s quarters.

Casey was sure the kid would be just thrilled to know that they would be staying there the next two nights. Alone. Finally being isolated and able to talk freely, Casey had hope the kid would take the cotton out of his ears and hear him out, but with Chuck’s considerable hatred towards him these days, it looked like there was a better chance of Vic sprouting wings.

Casey let his eyes drift over the landscape. Hills rose in rolling mounds all around, and the trail wound through the tall pines, over gently bubbling creeks. Under other conditions, ones that didn’t involve a sullen, pissed-off young man trailing behind him on a horse, Casey would find solace in a place as hushed and remote as this.

Without speaking at all, they kept to the grassy path, lined with prickly shrub and copper mallow in bloom, following a clearing along the edge of the forest. The mine was a still a good distance up Silver Plume Mountain, another hour on horseback, but the cabin would be as far as they would go tonight.

The cabin had little in common with the hovel Chuck called home. When Liam had purchased the mine and the land surrounding it, Casey and his boss rode through the property, discovering the wooded acres included a small lake, clear as the sky in summer, edged with aspens and birch trees.

Well below the mine, with its standing trusses and hoists that loomed like a gash in the side of the mountain, was a slice of forest that had dropped from heaven. Liam decided on the spot that his superintendent’s cabin would be constructed near the transparent shimmering water, away from the immediate noise and smell of a productive silver mine.

The man didn’t exactly skimp on the accommodations, either, knowing he would spend some time there. Maybe to convince Casey to be with him, but thankfully his boss had given up after trying more than once.

Pulling up on the reins, Casey took it all in, grateful the land hadn’t changed or been spoiled by anyone else. The split log lodge at edge of the lake, giving views across the water, was the closest thing he had ever known as home. On an evening like this one, he could see the white tree trunks of the birches reflecting in the lake’s ripples, their leaves rustling in the wind.

Damn it was a beautiful spot, Casey had to admit, and for once a man with a black soul like Liam made something good.

“This is it,” Casey said over his shoulder as the cabin and lake came into view. He huffed and took off his hat, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I call it ... gcroilar an loch.”

There was no answer behind him.

Eventually, you’re going to have to talk, kid, Casey wanted to tell him, but he let Chuck stew in his juices a little longer. Besides, it wasn’t as if the silent hours on the trail had been useless. In reality, they had given him time to unravel the events of the past few days, time to think about putting all of the broken pieces back together.

At some point, he needed to talk to the kid, let him know what would happen in the next week.

They dismounted, and after letting the horses drink at the lake, Casey took his saddle pack and tethered Vic and a gentle quarter horse named Bart to a stand of scrubby pines next to the cabin.

Casting a sidelong glance at his ex-lover, he didn’t know what he was going to say first. They were here and alone. That’s what mattered. Casey was sure the rest would come.

While he took a second to appraise Chuck, he was reminded that the kid had only a short time to recover from his injuries before making another trip, and it appeared nine hours on the trail might’ve punched the stuffing out of him. He was breathing shallowly again, and looking nothing more than dirty, hot, and exhausted. Rickety as a loose fence post in a strong gust, Casey thought, and the kid was almost swaying on his feet when he landed on them.

“Give me your arm,” Casey said, but what he meant was I’m taking it. “By the looks of you, I’m guessing you weren’t ready for a ride like that.”

“Go to hell,” Chuck muttered, wrenching his arm free. “I’m fine. Don’t need your sympathy, and for the record? Nurturing doesn’t suit you.”

Casey decided to let him walk on his own. He climbed the few steps to the long covered porch, extending the length of the cabin and facing the lake. As he heard Chuck’s boots on the stairs behind him, he nodded in the direction of a rocking chair next to the door that had seen better days. “Sit.”

For once, the kid didn’t argue. He plopped down in the seat and rested his head back, closed his eyes. The chair creaked as Chuck stretched out those long legs and slowly began to rock. “What is this place?” he asked without looking up. “Why are we stopping here?”

“This is where we’re staying for the next two nights.”

One brown eye, suspicious, cracked open to peer up at him. “We are? Here? I thought we were going to a mine. And thanks for asking, but there was no point in bringing me here since I’m not going to help you.”

Casey grunted his rebuttal, because Chuck sure as hell was going to help. He evaded the topic for now by answering the first question.

“Liam built the lodge after he bought Silver Plume mine,” Casey explained. He paused to dig through the saddle pack, grabbing his canteen along with two sourdough biscuits. “The point was that the superintendent would live here to oversee his holdings, but ... for obvious reasons, we use it as a camp sometimes in the summer. When it’s too blazing hot in the gorge. The mine is about a thousand feet vertical rise, up on Sawtooth ridge. Here.”

Chuck didn’t take it. “Where is the superintendent?”

“The mine’s closed. I’m sure you heard that much.”

“What makes you so sure I’m going to stay here? With you? The second you turn your back – I’m running!”

“Thanks for the warning, cupcake. But you may have noticed, for the last ten miles on the trail up here, there was nothing but dense forest.” Casey lifted his head like a bear scenting the breeze, thoroughly examining the clearing around the cabin. “You don’t know how to get out of here. And I do have tracking skills if you try. Now take this.”

Chuck glared at the offerings before he accepted the canteen and both biscuits. “You’re wasting your time,” he mumbled, pausing to take a long drink. “If you were serious about helping me, we’d be in La Junta by now. Or ... back at the farm.”

Just the mention of the farm brought up memories of everything that happened there. Up in the loft, at the creek. Nothing made Casey want to shut him up more than that, maybe by holding him steady by the back of his head, keep him still and submitting to it, then brush his lips over his. Kissing away the hurt. All those damn questions.

If he tried it now, it would only get him pushed back or kicked in the nuts – he was sure the kid would try it, anyway – and would have no hope of fixing what was broken.

“I told you ... a few nights ago,” Casey said, trying to keep his voice calm, telling himself he wasn’t explaining this to a rebellious child, “they will hunt us down if we try. He will not give up. Or fail.”

“But -!”

“But nothing.” Well, there went the calm center. Casey’s jaw tightened while he dug around for a tin of pinto beans and a fork, passing them off to the kid. Pathetic caretaking that was, but it would have to do until supper. “There are things you don’t know. Leverage you’re not aware of. There’s only one way for this to happen. For both of us to get away.”

“Both of us?” Chuck’s brows drew down and he almost coughed up a bite of the biscuit. “Not to be selfish here, John, but what the hell does this have to do with you?”

“Eat,” Casey answered, letting him know that was all he was getting. Hell, it was too much already. “I’m going inside to open the place up, get some air through the windows. Then you can watch me catch our supper.”

“Supper? You’re going to act like there’s nothing wrong here?” Chuck waved a hand between them. “Like this is normal?”

“Yep.” Heading for the door, Casey stepped inside and began opening up each window. He poked his head out one of them and called to the kid, “You could go get firewood.”

“God!” he heard Chuck grumble in frustration. “You are the most frustrating man on the planet!”

“Damn hungry one, too.” Casey walked back out onto the porch, a fishing pole and line in his hand. He sauntered over to the rocking chair, stood between a pair of long legs, and waited. His position made Chuck look up at him with those dark eyes of his, and Casey wondered how he would go two days without letting his thoughts wander. “Once you’re done eating those few things, you can join me down there ... if you’d like.”

“I’m good here,” Chuck said, forking up some beans.

“Really.” Casey leaned over him and sniffed dramatically. “Because you don’t smell very good. I thought you might want to get rid of a few layers of dirt.” He motioned towards the lake and went on low-voiced, “Maybe go for a swim?”

Chuck eyes went wide as an owl’s, his brain obviously tripping on the visual. “You’re forgetting something,” he said, a nice flush tinging his cheeks. “I already know that ‘swim’ is just a euphemism to you. And thank you very much for your offer, but my clothes are just fine where they are.” He ended it by tugging on his shirt collar, as if Casey meant to strip him down and throw him in here and now.

Well, to the kid’s defense, yeah, he had done it before.

Hell. Wouldn’t you like that, kid? You liked it before, didn’t you?

“Suit yourself.” Casey drew in a breath and lowered his eyes down to that curly head, and he couldn’t help it. Before he walked away, he ran a hand through the kid’s hair, back and forth, a gesture to let him know he was safe here at least. “Not going to make you do what you don’t want to, tiger.”

Chuck jerked from him. “You already have,” he said, looking away, misery filling his eyes.

Casey huffed at his mule headedness, and without another word, left him alone on the porch with his thoughts, swallowing down the food with his bitter resentment.

-x-

Casey toed off his boots at the water’s edge and rolled up his jeans. It was a beautiful evening, clear blue sky and sun sparkling on the water, the promise of a painted cloud sunset on the horizon.

Picking up the fishing pole, he went up to his calves in the cool water, his feet sinking into the sandy bottom. The sun was warm on his neck, and after a sidewinding whip of the line, Casey concluded that only a lean strong body next to his, sharing this minute, would make it better.

Hardly any time had passed before a fish hit his line, wriggling against the hook. Slowly drawing it in, Casey waited for it to clear a rock, only moving his shoulders as the perch’s fin cut the surface. Close enough. He gave a quick tug and reached out for the line, pulling the fish in. When a few inches would bring it to his hand, he lifted the slippery and flapping fish from the water and turned to see if Chuck was watching him.

He was. The kid arms were crossed over his chest, and it looked like he had kicked off his boots. Noticing that Casey had wheeled around, he suddenly became interested in the horses. Then his bare feet.

He’ll be down here. In no time at all.

Casey drew the line out again. By the time the sun nearly rested on the ridge, transforming the trees on the opposite side of the lake with pink and orange brushstrokes, he figured the half dozen perch he had strung on the shore would stave off hunger for a while.

Crossing over the grassy edge, Casey shot a fleeting look at Chuck and gestured with the dangling line. “Come on. You’re missing out. Nice down here.”

Chuck frowned and kept rocking.

“God, you are a willful one,” Casey muttered, looking out over the water again. The breeze had died down, barely a ripple broke the surface. It made him think. Hours on the steep trail, the heat; it had left him feeling almost as dirty as the kid.

On second thought, Casey could really use a rinse.

Without bothering to look back, he unbuckled his holster, set it on the ground, and began working on the buttons of his chambray. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the few times the young man behind him did this very thing. Seemed to enjoy it, too.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one remembering.

“Going in,” Casey called behind his back. Letting his shirt flap open, he pulled it free of his shoulders and tossed it in the grass. Half naked, he went up to the house to dig through his pack for a bar of pear soap. “Not as cold as your creek back home,” he stopped to tell the kid before he headed back down to the water. “I think you’d like it if you gave it a try. Get the dirt off you, too.”

“Do you think I’m that naive?”

“Do you think I’m that desperate?” Casey chuckled and ambled down the path to the lake. Once he reached the water’s edge, he put his hands on his hips and turned. He had felt Chuck’s gaze on his shoulders, his broad back, and sure enough, when he faced off with him, the kid jumped and quickly got busy picking at the last of the biscuit. Casey simply went back to stretching his weary shoulders in the sun, wiping off the hint of sweat with cool water.

Busted, brown eyes. Get an eyeful, and then play coy?

“Desperate. No, that’s one thing you’re not,” he heard Chuck mumble under his breath.

Glancing down at his bare chest, moist, streaked with dirt, Casey began unfastening the buttons of his jeans. It was too sensual of an act to do while facing him like this - just me, cupcake, nothing’s going to hurt you – so he turned around and finished up with the last buttons of his fly.

While he shucked off the jeans, taking his undershorts down with them, over his long legs, he felt Chuck’s watchful presence behind him like fire brushing over every inch of skin he was slowly revealing.

Casey never saw the need to gloat over the body God gave him - hell, it was the tool he required, that’s all - but being naked and on display didn’t shame him a bit. Why the hell should it?

He already knew what Chuck liked. Luckily, Casey happened to have those things, so why not use them? From the beginning, the kid was terrible at hiding his attraction, and if giving him an eyeful of a muscular ass or roped tendons on his back meant distraction, temptation ... well, hell, Casey was more than willing to play that game.

Casey ventured in deeper, toes sinking in to sand, water sliding up to his knees. Standing there, tall and naked, he wet his hands, began to drag water up his stomach and ribcage, cleaning himself. He’d almost forgotten he was being watched, that’s how good it felt on his skin. There was a moment he wanted to turn, make Chuck come to terms with his voyeurism, but the kid was already seriously pissed with him. Casey would give him a little longer. Then he’d do it. The shy city boy act would get trampled.

“Just needs a good roll in the hay,” he said under his breath. “That would clean the stuffing out of his stubborn head.”

Taking it slow, he cupped his palms and scooped water over his shoulders, letting it trickle down his biceps and arms. Soap and water slicked fingers moved over his biceps, his neck, cool water and suds sluicing over bare flesh.

He waded in further, the ripples lapping at his thighs, his ass. “Ow. Shit.” A sharp stone bit into the soft flesh of his foot. Casey dove under and found it, and he gave it a toss to the deep water. He went under again, coming up and scrubbing at his head with the bar of soap before going under for another rinse.

One challenge about swimming, he reckoned, was trying to wash his back. It was never as much fun doing it all alone. But since Chuck was too bashful – or riled - to say what he wanted, Casey would be washing his own damn back.

God.

Maybe he should make him.

Would it be wrong to take the kid by the torn shirt, drag his skinny ass down here, strip off those filthy clothes and wash every square inch of him? He needed it, didn’t he? Christ. Yeah ... and when he had him, here, naked ... the kid would find it wasn’t so bad. Working the soap up and down his ... back .... under the broad ridge of the head, cleaning every - yeah, right there, kid -

A twig snapped behind him. Casey spun and directed his gaze into a pair of startled dark eyes.

“Hey, just me.” Chuck flashed a nervous smile and raised his hands for peace. “I was just – um.” His attention briefly lingered on the slope of Casey’s chest, the tapering of his stomach just above the surface, before his eyes darted up to the clouds. Caught red-handed, the kid tried to assume innocence by shoving his hands in his pockets. Innocence, my ass. “Just thought I’d dip my toes in. See if it really is as nice as you say – oh. Hm.”

“Nice, heh,” Casey rumbled, careful not to move in closer to the shore. At once, Chuck reminded him of a young deer, venturing out to the water’s edge, tensed to up and flee at the whiff of danger. “Even better when you jump in.”

Come on, kid. Nothing scary in these depths.

“I’m fine here,” Chuck said, dipping his feet into the water.

“Really? Because the parts of your skin I can see look like they’d benefit with more of a washing than dipping your toe like that.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Which I’m capable of doing myself.” Wiggling his toes, he then rolled up his jeans to his calves and ventured in another step. “Oh ... that’s ... not bad. You were on to something, I guess.”

Casey went under again and when he came up, he ruffled his hair to unglue it and watched Chuck wade in to his upper calves.

Even in the quiet moment, Casey felt something from him, as if there were words there, waiting to be said in the powerful stillness. He had words of his own, but had given up for now.

I’m saving you from being hurt. Saving both of us.

Watching him in the light of dusk, still a dozen feet away, Casey put off saying anything to see what he would do. Waiting was easier when he could spend the time really noticing him, all long legs and sharp angles, coltish. He had intimate knowledge of what that gawky frame looked like without a stitch on it. Surprisingly broad shoulders, the narrowest waist and hips. Better than all of that, a willing pupil when it came to being taught how to drive another man mad.

The hard yearning ache he didn’t want to feel surged up in him now at the vivid memory of that body curled up to his at night. The way he let Casey’s mouth move over his belly, his chest, nuzzling his throat. Other parts that reacted beautifully to his lips, and later, opened under him, letting him drive deeper.

Now if he could get him just to come into the water with him, it’d be a fucking miracle.

God, this was screwed up.

“Sure you don’t want to go swimming?”

“I’ve never been a very good swimmer,” Chuck observed, water rippling around his knees.

Casey squinted at him. No blush. He really didn’t know that Casey meant he could at least take off his shirt. Casey came in to the shallower water and dragged a hand down his chest, rinsing off the last of the lather. “The lake ... makes you forget all of this – even for a little while, eh?”

Chuck lifted his head and blinked at him. “What?”

Maybe it was the deep rumble, the inflection, or the coaxing half smile Casey could no longer repress. Whatever it was, the kid had, of course, misinterpreted the offer.

“Wait.” Chuck backed up a few steps until the water only lapped at his ankles. “You’re talking about – now?”

“You think I’d hurt you?” Casey asked, eyes roving over him. “Listen, kid, I didn’t mean -”

“I don’t believe you!” Chuck shook his head and scrambled out of the water. “So fucking my brains out is going to fix all of this? That’s your plan?! That’s why we’re here? And that’s going to help me forget, huh?”

“That’s not my plan, kid,” Casey growled, inching forward. The water level was awfully close to his lower abdomen, so he stopped there. “I only thought getting back to something normal would help. Fishing, swimming ... living. Make you remember ... the way it was before all of this.”

“I don’t want to have to remember. I want it to be that way.” Realizing he said too much, Chuck flushed and covered it up by throwing his hands in the air. “You’re impossible, you know that?” There was the briefest flicker when his gaze dropped, passing down Casey’s torso and back up again. It only took a moment to realize he had been caught perusing. “Oh ... God.”

“Get a good look, sport?” Casey said, arching a brow. “I can turn around if you’d like.”

The kid spun on his heel, walking up the cabin and muttering under his breath.

Casey gave in to wry smirk while he watched Chuck’s backside. “Oh, cupcake, you have no idea what you’re doing.” Whatever they had at the farm, crazy and impulsive as it was, the hunger was still there. They both felt it. Buried deeper with the kid, but it was there. No one could look like that at a man he professed to hate.

The clothes he had shed lay in the grass next to his leather boots. His body dripping as he came out of the water, Casey gathered them up with the holster before he grabbed the pole and the fish line, holding the perch strung through the gills.

Well, there was no way to be delicate about it since his dry clothes were in his pack, so Casey held the boots in front and low as he strode up the short path to the porch. Since the kid had already pitched a fit at what he thought was a proposition, he probably didn’t want a face full of a cock.

Heh. Proof right there that Casey could be considerate.

The larger man came up the stairs, found Chuck already back in the rocking chair, silently fuming at him. When he caught sight of Casey, he turned his head and blushed. “Um. You’re naked.”

Casey halted in front of him. “And you’re still a genius, kid. Can you hold the pole while I hang the fish line here?”

“Wh-what?” Those not so innocent eyes momentarily flicked down, lashes lowering. “I ... I don’t think -”

“Fishing pole, kid.” Casey grinned down at him and handed it off. “I’m going inside to get dressed. You can come in if you’d like, or you can wait a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait, thank you.”

“Have it your way, then.” Casey shrugged at the back of his bushy head, since Chuck refused to look at him. “Then I’ll start supper.”

Chuck fiddled with the top of the canteen. “Next time I’ll stay clear of the lake.”

Casey bit his tongue over how many dips in the lake he saw in the kid’s future. He walked to the doorway, but instead of going inside, he put his hand on the doorframe and looked down at him. “Kid?”

“What now?” Chuck asked. He didn’t look over.

“Are you going to need your eyeballs back anytime soon?”

“Hm?” Chuck’s brows drew down and he shot a confused sideways look until he remembered Casey was still buck naked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, the last time I saw them, they were pasted to my ass.” With that, he nodded politely and left Chuck sputtering, forgetting to close his mouth.

“Arrogant jerk,” he heard when the kid thought Casey was out of earshot.

“Been promoted from asshole, huh?” Casey replied with a chuckle out the window. When he didn’t get an answer, he put the fish in the sink basin and quickly got dressed in clean clothes from his pack. Great. So far, it looked like getting away from Black Rock had done nothing for the kid’s temperament.

While he buttoned his shirt, Casey thought about the plans he had laid out today, how much and when he would tell the kid. Hell, it was still rough around the frayed edges, and parts of it would require a miracle or two, but he had gotten out of fucked up messes before. Even though there were twelve thousand and one things that would try to get in his way.

Like Chuck. Because the most notable one was sitting in a rocking chair out on the porch, not convinced of any of it. Thinking of how he’s going to get away.

“Sorry, kid,” Casey muttered to himself, flashing his eyes towards the open window. No way could Chuck hear him, but he kept his voice a bare whisper. “There’s no way around it. You’re going to hate every part of it. And at first you’ll hate me more for making you do it.”

Casey shook his head and set his pack on the kitchen table. Digging out some cornmeal, butter, and a knife, he lifted his chin when he heard steps on the porch.

And just like that, Chuck stood in the doorway.

With Casey’s own Colt revolver pointed at his head.

“Ah, shit,” Casey murmured. He was already well aware of the kid’s limitations, but even Chuck whoever-the-hell-he-was might not be able to miss that shot.

“Knife down,” Chuck ordered, his hands shaking.

“So, let me get this straight,” Casey said, and eying the gun, he did as he was told. “I’m your hostage now, is that it, brown eyes?”

-x- End Chapter Four Sins Fell Angels-x-


	5. Chapter Five

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Five

-x-

“Ah, shit,” Casey murmured. He was already well aware of the kid’s limitations, but even Chuck whoever-the-hell-he-was might not be able to miss that shot.

“Knife down,” Chuck ordered, his hands shaking.

“So, let me get this straight,” Casey said, and eying the gun, he did as he was told. “I’m your hostage now, is that it, brown eyes?”

-x-

He couldn’t help it. It was right there on the grass, asking – no forcing – him to take it.

However, this was the part he hadn’t planned out so well, the kid had to admit. Because now he was holding a gun, pointed at him. God, what was he supposed to do?

Chuck felt his heart rate go crazy, picking up speed like a boulder flung over a cliff. Besides that bit of helpfulness, nothing immediately came to mind.

No, seriously, what the hell was he thinking? Stealing the gun was the easy part. But holding one? It felt as if he had left his own body, looking down at himself from another place. Chuck, the city boy and the scholar, never held a gun like this one, only his buckshot rifle. It was all new to him. Something he tried to avoid every day of his entire life.

“Um, your hands ... you should, uh -”

“What about them?”

“I guess – keep them where I can see them, okay!” Chuck’s voice came out panicked, breathy.

Casey’s lip curled into a small smile. “My other puppy?” he said, eyes drifting down to the gun. “He could bring it to me in his teeth.”

“Your – what?”

“My gun.” Casey nodded at the Colt. “In his teeth.”

Chuck briefly lowered his hand, just an inch or two, staring at him. Didn’t Casey know the one with the gun was supposed to be the alpha dog?! “Don’t – don’t move, okay? Stay there!”

“Here?” Casey put a slight tilt to his head, contemplating, and took a few purposeful strides around the farm table that separated them. “Or here?”

Chuck’s hand wobbled. The gun was way heavier than he ever thought. “Stay there.” He squared his shoulders and secretly sent up a prayer that Casey would not take another step. “Back ... where you were.” He motioned with the muzzle, since it seemed like the thing to do.

He forgot one thing, however. Casey never listens.

“This table, eh?” Casey took a deliberate step around one of the chairs, his boot clacking softly on the floor, his eyes not leaving Chuck’s face. “Do you have a new plan, kid?”

“Well.” Chuck looked down the unsteady barrel, past the chiseled chin to the incredibly blue eyes. “I’m ... uh, kidnapping you?” Crap. He had to suppress a cringe, since the kid hadn’t intended to make it sound like a question. “I’m the one in charge now. You have to listen to me.”

“You’re in charge. Is that it?” Casey tucked a thumb in his front pocket, nonchalant, like he was out for a little promenade. “What do you plan on doing with me?”

Chuck was not about to admit that he hadn’t quite figured that out. Yet. It was only twenty minutes ago that Casey had left the holster at the water’s edge, the gun tucked behind the leather strap. So tempting, just take it.

But after that? Chuck was pretty much a novice at the whole kidnapping thing. Oh. And shooting for that matter. You didn’t hold a gun to make friends. You held a gun to blow wide, gaping holes into ... people, other humans that bled all over the floor.

The kid cleared his throat. “I’ve had enough of being dragged around, punched, kicked –”

“I didn’t do any of those things, pancake –”

“-drugged,” Chuck went on pointedly. “What about that?”

Casey lifted a shoulder. “You know damned well why I did it.”

“Then you know why I have to do this,” Chuck answered, forcing himself to lock his arm and shift his grip on the gun. Why on earth did it feel like the air had been sucked out of the room? “Don’t come any closer.”

There had to be distance. Otherwise, Casey was too dangerous. It was bad enough that they stood only about a dozen feet apart, the larger man managing to look confident and at ease, even with his own handgun pointed at his neck.

Should he be aiming for something less indispensable? An arm? Leg, maybe?

God, no. He could never shoot him.

“I didn’t realize we had a little change in rank while I had my back turned,” Casey said. At the sound of his gruff voice, Chuck reflexively moved further from him. He was immediately angry at himself when Casey smirked at the automatic retreat. “You do realize, if you’re pointing a gun at a man, you have to be willing to pull the trigger.”

Oh, no. He knows.

Chuck’s finger, resting on the trigger, felt frozen. He saw Casey advance another step, the dusky light in the room revealing every sharp feature of his face. A challenge; it was written in each deliberate movement of his body.

“Are you willing, kid?” he asked.

“I ... can. I’ve done it before.”

“When I broke into the cabin that night? If I recall, you really couldn’t do it, eh?” Casey mused, eyes tracking over him from head to toe. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Chuck cursed his own stupidity. Did he really forget how much his ex-lover and now hostage enjoyed a contest of wills? Not to mention how damn scary he could be when provoked, despite the fact he stood there unarmed? Look at him. Wearing only jeans and a clean white shirt he had slipped on, half buttoned, his hair still damp from the lake, he still succeeded in intimidation tactics.

“We’re leaving,” Chuck said. It was twilight outside, so he knew the clock was ticking. “We’re getting out of here tonight.”

“Have a little change of heart towards me, brown eyes?”

“N-no.” Chuck’s grip tightened once again. Why did he keep moving? Couldn’t Casey see that he had the gun? “You were right about one thing. And thanks for the tip. The nearest town is miles down the trail, and I can’t get there without you. That’s why you’re coming with me.”

“So in this little scenario you’ve cooked up, I’m going to help you escape. That’s your plan?”

“Glad we’re finally on the same page.” Chuck tilted the muzzle towards the door. “Now grab the pack and any provisions –”

“Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” Casey asked, the epitome of calm. Even with the gun pointed at his chest, he edged further around table, and now there was nothing between them. Being this close meant that the kid had no problem catching the hint of a smug smile on his face. “On the trail? At night?”

“You have all the information pertinent to your situation.” Chuck shuffled his feet defensively. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah? What about the horses?”

Chuck frowned as an entirely new layer of sweat popped up under his shirt. “Don’t you get it? We’re taking the horses, too.”

“The same horses that have already traveled almost twenty-five miles today.” Casey arched a brow and took another careful stride. “You mean those horses, I assume?”

“Are you saying – wait. Yes, those horses!”

Casey made one of his noises. “So after you kill both of them, and we’re stuck in the middle of the forest tonight, walking, how do you plan on fending off any wolves? Or a mountain lion?”

Chuck wrinkled his nose, recognizing that being prey to bears or other unthinkable carnivores would throw a bit of a wrench in his getaway plan. “Okay, strike that. We’ll leave in the morning,” he conceded. “They’ll be rested by then. We’ll stop at the first town. I don’t know which one it is, but I could make it out in the distance from the trail when we stopped for lunch.”

“Sure about that?”

Sort of? “Of course. Down the ridge to the south. It looked to be about ten miles away. After that, I’m ... going back to the farm –”

The rest of his plan was drowned out by a low chuckle. “You have it all figured out, don’t you, kid?” Casey shook his head at him, rubbed a hand over his jaw. His tone was studiedly neutral, which again amazed the kid he could do that with the gun between them. “But there’s so much you’ve forgotten.”

Chuck squinted down the barrel at him, hand now visibly jumping, but hell, he had larger problems at the moment. For starters, Casey had just closed the gap by another foot. “I have the gun, the horses, and you,” the kid replied, doing his best to sound bad ass. “I think I can figure out the rest as we go.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Casey said easily, but his voice sent inexplicable goose bumps over Chuck’s neck. “Have you figured out when you’re going to kill me?”

“Kill?” Chuck managed to say when he found his voice.

“That’s what you’re going to do, aren’t you, kid?”

“What? Why – why would you say that?”

“You won’t have a choice. You’ll have to do it.”

“Of course I have a choice!” The kid blinked and slid a foot back one more time. It hit the stubby leg of the cook stove, but at least he had something to hold him up because his legs had become watery. “I wouldn’t – I could never do that! You’re the one who – and we...?” Chuck started to make a hand motion, but remembered he was holding a gun. “Well, you damn well know I couldn’t.”

Casey folded his arms over his chest, making the cotton shirt stretch at his shoulders. Great. Just another reminder that he had a very broad back.

For the millionth time – and at the worst time – Chuck had to ask himself why a man like that saw anything in him. It was true, seeing that the dip in the lake and fresh clothes only brought out his natural handsomeness, smelling clean like fresh water, while the kid felt like a cake of mud stuck in a hoof.

He couldn’t think about this. Refused to think about this.

“Can’t kill, huh?” Casey drummed his fingers along his biceps as he mulled it over. “Too bad. You’re going to have to rethink that part of your plan, kid, if you want to make a clean escape.”

“Why – why is that?” Chuck’s felt his arm tensing just at the thought of it.

“Even if we make it down the ridge tomorrow with no mishaps, do you really think I can just let you waltz into town? Find a way to go back to the farm, knowing Liam is going track you down if that happens?” When he took another pace, Casey was almost within arm’s reach, emphasizing his bulk. Or how easy it would be to crush Chuck under his thumb if he reached out to do it. “Do you think I’d be willing to just throw my plan to the side so that you can make this school boy attempt to – what was it again? Kidnap me?”

The not-so-subtle mocking was not lost on the kid. “I still don’t get the part where I would have to – well, you know,” he said, glaring as he signaled with the gun.

“Kill me.” It would have made Chuck wet himself in horror, but Casey just chuckled. “Got to be able to say it, pancake.”

“Why would I have to do that?”

“Because I’m not going to let you pull this stunt, and that’s the only way to stop me.” The dumbass he meant to tack onto the end was implied, Chuck surmised.

“But I can’t do that!” God, the only reason he knew the gun had bullets was that it belonged to Casey. He had no frickin’ idea how to open the round thing – cylinder? – to even verify the presence of bullets. That pretty much negated any chance of pulling a trigger.

“No?” Casey slowly uncrossed his arms, which only made his chest, the target, seem ten times larger. “I’ll make it easy on you, goddess. Let’s get it over with right now.”

“Now?” Chuck echoed in a bit of a strangled voice, eyes as big as the kettle. “No, no, no. I’m not going to do that. I need you – er, for tomorrow. Get back!”

Casey gave him a bored look. He was already unbuttoning his shirt. “You do know where the heart is? A nice, clean kill shot just makes it easier that way.” The white cotton shirt fluttered open, the muscular slope of his pecs and chest hair exposed. “Right here,” he said, pointing to the place where the kid had memories of resting his head. “Go ahead. I’ll even put my hands up and close my eyes if that’ll help you.”

“Wh-what?” A bolt of panic made Chuck’s voice soar two octaves. “Are you insane? I’m not going to shoot you. I ... I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because – because I’m not the kind of man that ... listen, stop talking, okay?”

“I’ll tell you why.” The step forward put the muzzle of the gun against his flesh, right at the heart. “You have doubts, kid. About me. Yeah, they’re small, only the size of gnats really. But they’re there ... aren’t they? Worming and digging into the back of that big brain of yours?”

“I never said I had doubts –”

“And they’re about me,” Casey went on, standing close enough for Chuck to see the jagged lines in his sea-colored irises, utterly focused on the kid’s face. “A tiny piece of you is wondering if I am telling the truth. If I do have a way to get us out of here that won’t involve you killing me.” The larger man glanced down at the barrel. “Or getting your fool-self killed. Is that what you’re thinking?”

“I –” Chuck shook his head because very uncomfortable images were flashing through his mind. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then do it.”

His hand shook more than before. Hell, his entire arm seemed disconnected from himself. From the gun, from the man in front of him. He counted off seconds in his head, waiting to see if Casey would flinch.

Of course, he never did. Ever. His face was unreadable, though he sensed Casey was messing with him to prove his argument.

It didn’t help to know that. In reality, Casey had a fair point. Chances were more than astronomical that he could never shoot him, never swallow Casey’s betrayal whole.

So he did the only thing he could.

Eye to eye, Chuck searched Casey’s face once more, his hand frozen on the gun for what seemed like eternity. And convinced Casey would never back down, even with an icy muzzle over his heart, Chuck tightened his fist on the grip one more time –

\- and slowly lowered the gun to the table.

“You win,” he said wearily, and he leaned back against the cold cook stove, not daring to look at him. “I can’t do it.” The kid briefly closed his eyes to gather strength, since it was too tempting to flee. “But you’re wrong about one thing. It’s ... not doubt.”

“Goddammit,” Casey growled, and wasting no time, he scooped up the gun and stalked over to his holster, stuffing the Colt in its rightful place. “Do you realize what the fuck you just did?”

“I know you’re mad,” Chuck blurted, holding up his hands in surrender. “Just try not to kill me, okay?”

Now that Casey had his gun, and all was right in his world, the veneer of cool restraint seemed to crack a bit. Chuck guessed he was seething – at him, of course - but maybe at himself for turning his back on him at the water and not noticing the gun had been poached.

Without a word, Casey carefully laid his holster over the back of a chair. When he turned to Chuck, he sent him a narrow glance that said he expected a sane explanation.

“Soooo. Is supper ready?”

Casey said nothing, proving he would not see the humor in pursuing this dialogue.

“Um, okay,” Chuck began, stopping to swallow. “I’m sorry. I made a big mistake – usually, I think things through a little better than that, all right?”

Casey grunted. Chuck quickly translated how many angry words were conveyed in that one sound. Too copious to total up at the moment, not when he was looking at him like that.

“Wait – let me explain, Casey.” Chuck still had both hands out, fingers stretched in a desperate plea, silently entreating the larger man would find patience. “What I meant was that I don’t have ... doubts.”

Hearing that, Casey’s jaw tightened. “Don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit, kid.”

He was running out of chances, Chuck knew, and he would only have Casey’s attention for another half minute tops, until the other man came up with a plan on what to do with him next.

Chuck wet his lips nervously. “It’s small, you’re right about that. Niggling at me ... these thoughts of mine. Telling me you’re on my side, letting me know that you’re going to get ... us - both of us - out of here.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stayed silent for a moment or two. “But it’s hope, Casey. That’s all I have. Faith that ... maybe between the two of us, we can both find a way home.”

Casey responded with a snort.

“You heard me.” Chuck watched him lean a hip on the table, a safe distance away. “It’s small, and swirling around with a lot of other things right now, but without hope, I think a man ... well, he should just give up on breathing.”

Casey stood motionless for a moment, examining him with eyes that were sharp and clear. “Nice speech,” he said. “Now I have one for you.”

The no-nonsense look said somebody was about to be taught a life lesson. And sensing he was the only student present, Chuck gave a fleeting look at the doorway and backed around the side of the potbelly stove again. It was the only thing in the room bigger than Casey, though he was sure the larger man wasn’t about to let a measly two thousand pound piece of iron get in his way.

Maybe taking Casey’s gun was a colossally bad idea.

“A speech? So, can I assume this speech lacks violence?”

Casey peered over at him. He wasn’t lifting his fists, so obviously that was a good sign.

“I see. Well, that’s only fair.” Chuck rocked back on his heels, affecting an innocent look. “You got to hear mine. So, please. Tell it.”

As Chuck waited, his heart hammering against his rib cage, he heard Casey’s voice. It was a quiet command.

“Come here.”

Chuck didn’t precisely hear anything good in that tone, so he put his hands at his sides and stayed still. After the little show he had just put on for them, Casey probably wanted to sock him in the gut, right? Or – would he prove his point by shooting him? Nah. Maim, perhaps.

Ah, God.

“I asked you to come here,” Casey repeated in the same deep tenor.

Chuck’s hands clenched, then opened as he nodded, telling himself to just get it over with. There was a part of him that felt miffed at being treated like a bad puppy, resigned to a suitable punishment, but the kid was unable to resist. Casey’s voice never did give him a choice.

“Okay. If you put it that way, I guess.” He approached, feeling rightfully spooked, a ball of nerves bouncing in his stomach.

Casey made no attempt to meet him halfway. He waited, watching as Chuck dragged his feet past the table, over by the chair where Casey stood. Arms were relaxed at his side, but the kid sensed his hard-muscled six foot plus frame had tightened as he shuffled up to him.

“I’m here,” the kid said softly, not looking at him. “Just not the face, okay? Or the ribs. They’ve been through enough.”

Chuck shrunk back, bracing himself for the punch that was coming. It was like waiting for death. But death didn’t happen. Rather, he nearly jolted when fingers grazed over his jaw, pausing to caress his lips.

“Look at you,” Casey muttered. “A pest from the day I laid eyes on you. Been nothing but a mile of skinny trouble.”

Chuck closed his eyes, for the bit of tenderness in his touch was the last thing he expected. “If you’re going to hit me, I’d appreciate it if you’d -”

“Not going to hit you.” A gentle stroking started at his neck. Large hands smoothed over his shoulders, drifted over his biceps. “Open your eyes.”

He did. No doubt, Casey was still angry. It was right there brimming in his face, now just a few inches from his own.

The hands on his biceps suddenly clinched. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make the kid hitch a breath. Casey’s eyes stayed locked to his, as did his hands, and on second thought, maybe it did hurt a little.

“If you ever threaten me with a gun,” Casey said, threat lacing his voice, “a pitchfork, or even so much as a blade of straw –”

“Straw? – ah.” Wow, did he need the reminder that Casey has strong hands? “Please. Continue.”

“I will take you back to Black Rock, wait until your father arrives, and gladly deliver you to him with a bow pinned to your ass.” Casey dug his thumbs in, once, hard, the pressure forcing him to maintain eye contact. “Is that what you want, kid?”

Chuck wanted nothing more than to back away, only to find a place where he could sort out his reeling emotions; the world was teetering dangerously as if it wanted him to slide right into the space between his arms. “You would ... do that?” The kid stared at him in absolute horror. “You know I ... can’t.”

Casey nodded once, coldly. “I would. And right about now, I know you want to argue, discuss this, maybe wring your hands and flash those sad brown eyes at me, but that would be wasting your time.” His voice still held anger, but there was something ragged and tender beneath it. “If you pull that again, I will hand you over to him. Then I’ll go back to my life ... and try to forget about you.”

“Casey –” Chuck bit it off, knowing it was wrong to argue in exactly the way his maybe ex-lover had predicted. Eventually he scrubbed a hand through his messy hair and looked to the side, avoiding the intimacy of the close eye contact. “I thought you already had.”

Casey let a huff escape his lips, and the kid heard nothing but exasperation. “I told you. I was coming back, so don’t try to pull that shit, either. Got that?”

“Yes,” Chuck said, bewildered, because what other answer could he give?

“I need you to look at me. Make it clear that you understood every damn word I just said.”

Chuck tipped his chin up, stared at him. His throat bobbled when he swallowed, but there was no backing away. Finally, he gave a tiny nod.

“Good,” Casey said bluntly, and Chuck interpreted this as permission to retreat.

Not quite. As the kid tried to move, Casey slid one of his hands down, circled his back with a strong arm and held, his temple brushing Chuck’s hair. “All of this has been fucking unfair,” he whispered against a few dark curls over his ear, “but it’s the hand we’ve been dealt for now.”

Chuck nodded again and finally drew back. The proximity and temptation hovered, a sense of movement and heat. Would Casey try to kiss him, here and now? The kid put more distance between them. He wasn’t certain he could handle being kissed mere minutes after pointing a gun at him. The air still bristled with energy, and he needed to get some oxygen back in his lungs.

Casey seemed to sense that. Releasing his grip, he straightened and the spurt of heat the kid had felt evaporated like sunlight behind a patch of silvery cloud. “You can fill the buckets on the porch and get some water to the horses,” he said, slanting a look at the door. “There’s a stack of firewood out back. Get the fires going in the stove and the fireplace. I guess I have some fish to clean for dinner.” He cocked a brow and added for good measure, “Now that you decided to keep me alive?”

Chuck gulped and attempted to collect himself, though he was still shaky and drenched with sweat. “Okay, chores. I guess ... there’s no reason to coddle my ribs anymore?”

The larger man replied by giving him a hard look. Then he turned to the sink, mile-wide back hiding his hands, and he got back to work.

“Wow, yeah. Sure.” Chuck sighed, resigned to the fact he was never going to be able to live this down, and he went out on the porch to find the buckets.

-x-

The ice was far from broken, Casey acknowledged, forking up his last piece of perch. Sure, it had melted a bit, perhaps a shard or two picked away, but it was still frosty and thick as Bejesus.

Chuck was quiet, fiddling with his cup. Then his fork, never making eye contact for longer than a second or two, and the smile Casey knew to be capable of dissolving glaciers had yet to bloom like sunshine on his face.

It bugged the shit out of Casey that he missed it.

Despite all of the words that they had to say to each other, while they ate, the only sounds came from the crackling of the fire, bullfrogs thrumming on the lake, and the occasional clang of a fork or a knife on the tin plates. In due course, Casey knew the kid would crack – the jumble of thoughts in his head would lead to nervous babbling – and so he bided his time and waited.

It didn’t take long.

“I – I could’ve offered up my limited culinary skills to help with dinner.”

“I’ve had my fair share of vittles that taste like boiled boot leather,” Casey told him from across the table. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

At another time, Chuck would’ve answered that with a smart ass remark, or maybe a grin that would have Casey silently vowing to make the next thousand dinners without complaint. The hope of that was as far away as a desolate farm.

“I should ... go put another log on the fire,” Chuck said.

As Casey watched him, noticing his stilted, nervous motions, he concluded that he had made the right decision before dinner. Hell, it would’ve been so easy, too, with his arm around the kid’s waist, pulling him close enough for their hips to brush, Chuck’s warm exhalation on his neck.

Yeah, he could’ve done it. Haul him in for a firm, open mouthed press of lips. Hold him still and kiss the little twit senseless. Give it to him. Hot, possessive. Make him squirm a little.

The tension he had felt along his arm, the rippling of the kid’s lean body, stopped Casey before it happened. It wasn’t the kind of tightness that came with anticipation, the kind that flooded a man’s limbs, a wispy veil over hunger and urges. Not this time.

Casey recognized the trembling as some fear mingled with cloudy confusion. Whether the kid called it a trifle of hope or a mountain of doubt, it confirmed Chuck hadn’t lied to him about that. Whatever it was, it sat there in the back of his brain, making him wonder if a conman had pulled off one for the books.

“When you’re done over there,” Casey said, “I have something for you.”

Chuck, down on his haunches poking at the flames with a stick, turned to him and blinked. “If it’s any more of that tea with the special added bonus surprise, the answer is no.”

“No, not that.” Casey picked up their plates and got up from the table. “I set a few buckets of hot water on the stove. There’s a small tub over by the back door.”

“Tub – as in –?”

“As in getting the stink and dirt off you,” Casey cut in, putting the plates in the sink.

“I didn’t realize you went to all the effort. Is that really necessary?”

“You smell like dead things.” Casey just gave him a look that warned him not to push it after the number he pulled. “And since you weren’t interested in my offer earlier, it looks like you get to stand in a washbasin.”

“Sounds like a consolation prize,” Chuck mumbled to himself. Whatever was going through his head, however, he must’ve decided that Casey would accept nothing but full compliance. “Where’s the tub?”

“By the back door.”

The kid gave a tentative glance in that direction. When he found the tub leaning against the wall, his mouth fell open. “You mean that thing?” Holding it up, a perplexed look told Casey he didn’t understand how a round drum no more than three feet diameter and a foot tall could qualify as a tub. “You ... you weren’t kidding when you said I would have to stand.”

“Nothing like the one back home, eh?”

As Chuck flushed with embarrassment, he seemed to be thinking of how he could get out of stripping down in front of him. He looked from the tub, to Casey, back to the tub, and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Is there any place ... oh, I don’t know, secluded?”

Casey snorted at him and purposely looked around the open quarters. “The only place with any privacy is behind that curtain,” he said, tilting his head towards another tiny room. “And too bad for you, it’s taken up by a bed.”

“Oh.” Just the mention of it got that alertness in his eyes. He still hesitated.

“You do realize, pancake, there’s nothing under there that I haven’t seen.” Amused by the desperate cling to his modesty, Casey leaned his backside against the counter and his gaze dropped down Chuck’s torso. “This might prod your memory, but I was the one at your farm. Up in the loft...? Me. Down at the creek ... under the tree...? Yeah, me again. Or maybe you remember up in your –”

“Wow. Okay, I get it. You’ve made your point. I also get that I need a bath.” Chuck shot him one more wary look and moved a chair next to the tub. At first, Casey thought he was putting up a barrier - and maybe in a way it was - but he then turned his back to him and began unfastening his shirt’s buttons. His pale long back came into view, and when the kid turned to him, bare from the waist up, his arms were folded over his chest protectively. “Just – try to give me some privacy?”

“Afraid I’m going to be enticed by your scrawny ass?”

“It happened before,” Chuck answered, turning his back to work on the buttons of his jeans.

Casey rolled his eyes. Eh. Score one for cupcake. “I won’t look. Just get in there, and I’ll pour the first bucket.”

“How are you going to do that without looking?”

“Rather come over to the stove and get it yourself?”

“Um.” With his back to him, Chuck scooted his jeans off his hips, down his calves, taking his undershorts with them in one long drag. “Well, you have a point, I guess. You’ll have to keep one eye open.”

“Thanks, goddess. I’ll hop right to it.”

The kid pointed a frown past his shoulder. Casey ignored that because the scrawny ass he had teased about just a second ago was now out in the open, and frankly, Casey preferred looking at that than any scowls Chuck had to offer.

Not too scrawny. Had a nice rounded slope, looked pure and white, and though Casey knew pure was off the table, he didn’t mind thinking about taking it. Every detail of the first night in the loft burned his brain; being surrounded by him, buried deep. A blindfold. Later, little sounds of willingness. Taking hold of a buttock, squeezing hard, his fingers deep between the cleft, brushing the rim -

“I thought ... you were bringing a bucket?”

Casey started, noting Chuck was standing in the empty basin with his back to him. “Coming right up, your highness.” Getting the bucket, Casey stopped at his pack to dig out a bar of soap and walked over to the basin. The kid had his shoulders hunched, as if that would help hide his bare ass. “Here.”

“What – oh. Soap.” Lifting it, he sniffed. “Pear. Hey, I remember this. I liked it.”

“You liked a lot of things that night.”

Behind his back, Casey grinned at the way Chuck’s neck reddened up nicely. Christ. He wasn’t the only one that remembered. Since that night, just the scent of pear soap brought his cock to full erection, hard and fast ... like that. The vision unfolded. Chuck bending, and it felt so damn good when he brushed his wet lips on the crown.

“It’s fr-freeezing,” Chuck stammered, rubbing his upper arms. “Naked, you know?”

“Close your eyes. Here it comes.”

His bare back was just a foot in front of him, so Casey saw the kid momentarily straighten at here it comes. But when the bucket was lifted over his head, the warm water drained over him, answering the question.

“Gah! Oh ... oh.” He bowed his head. “That ... that’s wonderful.”

At liberty to get a free look, Casey’s eyes trailed down his spine, over his ass like the trickles of water. He imagined it, wrapping an arm around his middle, pulling him back against his chest. Without the trembling, just his cock sliding into the cleft. There. It’d be tight, too. The kid certainly kept his little near-virtuous legs clamped shut since Casey left, didn’t he?

God, he was so dick-whipped if he was even thinking this shit.

“Is there ... a cloth?”

“Eh?”

“You know, wash cloth?”

“Demanding little shit, aren’t you?” Casey replied. He walked over to a tall armoire, opened the doors, and scratched the side of his cheek as he peered inside. Blankets, old clothing, cooking supplies ... towel? He held it up. Small, but it would have to do, so he tore off one end of it and brought both pieces with him. “Wash cloth. That’s all we have.”

“Thanks.” He was careful to keep his back to him, reaching around his shoulder to snag it. Standing there in the itsy-bitsy tub, all long legs and gloriously naked, the kid wet the cloth and began to clean his face. Not the lick and a promise he got the other day, but a good washing. Slowly, working the soap up and down his arms, over his chest, he bent down and dipped the rag in the basin to rinse it, wring it out again to wipe away the soap.

Casey thought about getting the other bucket ready. Or it could wait a minute or two, so he kept himself busy by ... sitting in the chair Chuck had kindly provided.

As he took off his boots, the chair gave away a tell-tale creak under him. Chuck almost spun towards the sound, until he remembered not to. “What are you doing?”

“Long day. Thought I’d take off my boots before you sling around anymore orders.”

The kid squinted over his shoulder at him, but he did get back to washing his legs. “I couldn’t really get the cloth myself,” he mumbled.

A hand came down to get his lower back. Casey figured he could be doing that if the kid wasn’t skittish as a field rabbit. Come around to the front after that ... sweeping the cloth across his chest, dark curly hair there, plastered to his skin. Hit the spot where he had to let out a gasp, the hungry kind, dig his fingers into Casey’s forearm –

“You’re not ... watching me, are you?”

“Hell, no. I’m taking care of your clothes.” Casey took off his socks and got up from the chair. Grabbing Chuck’s mud-stained pants and shirt, he carried them out on the porch and found one of the buckets the kid had used to water the horses. After getting fresh water, he dunked the whole smelly mess into the water and pushed the fabric down with a stick.

By the time he got back inside, the kid was trying to wash his feet, and nearly managed to crack his head against the edge of the basin in the process.

Casey smiled. “Ready for the last bucket, Grace? Or are you rethinking the offer from earlier? Lot of room out in that lake.”

“I’m ... fine.” More splashing and sloshing ensued until Chuck finished his other foot and rose to his full height. Soap bubbles slid down his ass ....

Little brown-eyed tease. Doesn’t even know it.

Casey eyed him thoughtfully, but that was enough fun for now. Better check on the last pail full.

He turned to see steam rising from the bucket sitting on the potbelly stove. Sidling up to it, he dipped a finger in and went to the pump, topping it off with cold water.

“Brace yourself,” he said as he walked up to the lanky distraction in a washbasin. “It’s hot.”

“Will it –”

“No, it won’t burn you.”

Casey tipped the bucket over his head bit by bit, water running down the kid’s head, neck, every inch of him drenched. Water chased soap, running off his shoulders and down his back.

At the feel of moisture and warmth, Chuck dipped his head and made a sound that Casey interpreted as intense pleasure. “Oh ... God ....” he then murmured. Without seeing his face, Casey knew he had closed his eyes, could almost feel anxiety slide off his bare skin.

When he was like this, all those pleasing leaner muscles releasing tension, the knots in his back unwinding, Casey could only think of the barn loft. They were there in his mind, spent and fucked-out. Same content groans, the kid lax as cotton after Casey had rocked into him, breathless and growling. His lips were close to his ear, dropping a kiss on his shoulder, letting him know he’d be okay after this.

Jesus, dumbass. Focus. Casey trapped his bottom lip against his teeth and drew his attention only to the rivulets, the black curls stuck to his nape, fighting the urge to drag his fingers through the moist skin. It would take only some light scrubbing of his head, and he’d tip it back, all loose and rubbery. Then he’d drop his shoulders, let another long breath escape his lungs ... and maybe make one of those little pleasurable noises for him, the way he did when he was inside him.

“Hate to bother you again, my minion,” Chuck remarked, and even with his back to him, the kid brought his hands down to cover his crotch. “But were you able to find a towel?”

Casey squinted at the back of his head, wanting to remind him of two things. One, he was not the kid’s minion, and two, he had already tested the equipment he was trying to put under wraps, so the wrists crossed in front did no good.

“Here. I had to tear off a strip for your washcloth, sport, but this is the only thing I could find.”

“Thank you.” Chuck slanted a look past his shoulder and brought a hand around his back, waiting for Casey to give it up. “Um, I’m getting ready to get out, so if you don’t mind, I’d – wait.” Without turning, he held up the towel. “What?”

“Problem?”

“That’s it? Where’s the rest of it?”

“Just wrap it around your skinny ass and get out of there.”

“But this ... will barely cover – well ... ah, crap.” Giving in, Chuck quickly wrapped it around his hips and tucked the end in. When he stepped out of the basin and turned, Casey saw he was already blushing nicely at the indecent length. “Hey. Where are my clothes? They were right there on the chair.”

Casey shrugged and picked up the empty bucket. “Soaking. Outside. They’ll be ready by morning.”

Chuck, first looking down, tilted his head at Casey. “You do understand the issue at hand, right?”

Personally, Casey saw no issue, but saying that would only get that duck and cover look in the kid’s eyes. “Go stand by the fire. Get dried off.”

“Then what?”

“Just do it.” Casey walked over to the sink and began cleaning up, hoping the kid picked up on the signal that the conversation was over. “Put another log on while you’re over there.”

“Nag, nag, nag.” Chuck rolled his eyes before he walked over to stand in front of the stacked stone fireplace. “Since bending down will be so easy?”

Casey smirked as he began rinsing the tin plates. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the kid attempting it anyway, and he seemed to manage without dropping the towel, the log, or scorching any pertinent bits.

Huh. Guess it wasn’t too much of a surprise that cupcake over there had some coordination.

When he stood, Casey decided the position was suitable, at least. From his vantage point, it gave him a perfect view of Chuck’s outlined silhouette in the darkened room. While the fire cast a golden glow, the kid bent with his back to the flames and ran his hands down his arms, legs, bath water sluicing off pale skin.

Naïve little idiot had no idea how good he looked right now. Good enough to make Casey want to take a bite. The sorry excuse of a towel didn’t cover much at all – thankfully – and against the backlit fire, every long inch of him glistened, every firm muscle on his frame moved as he attempted to make himself dry.

God. Never had Casey hated a scrap of cloth more than that towel at this very minute. Before the shit storm hit and the kid lost faith in him, this scenario would go differently, Casey imagined. Dishes forgotten, he would be the one drying him off, rubbing the towel between Chuck’s shoulder blades, down over his ass, coming around the front to do the same to his chest and belly.

Of course, it would lead to what he wanted. After touching him enough, getting him lit and needing it just as much, he’d lean in and get a taste of his mouth, feel the smooth skin under his palms, get his cock ramrod stiff with just a few strokes.

When the kid brought up his hand, long fingers stretched out wide, he ruffled them through is hair to unglue the curls from his skull. Droplets flew. Now that Chuck was looking down, Casey let his gaze take a leisurely track over him, strolling down his body, his eyes warming as he crossed over his groin, back up to his face. Well, welcome home, long legs.

He was only being inquisitive, curious, Casey argued to himself, when the object he studied already belonged to him. In this case, an awkward yet beautiful young man who in some goddamn crazy way had found something in him.

“So, you said there may be clothes when I’m done?”

There were several less than virtuous answers on the tip of Casey’s tongue. Dismissing most of them on the grounds the kid would get riled, Casey enjoyed the view of his bare chest and reluctantly sauntered over to his pack. “I didn’t say, but yes, I brought some spare clean things.”

Don’t look so relieved, brown eyes.

“My size?”

“Sorry, pancake.” Casey came around a cushioned chair next to the fireplace and passed off the pile. “They’re mine.”

“Oh.” Chuck looked him up and down, appraising, before he glanced down self-consciously at the clothes. “Do you mind ... turning around again?”

Casey rolled his eyes and pivoted on his heel, folding his arms over his chest. The natural shyness and humility the kid clung to were the characteristics from the very beginning that made Casey’s dick hard. He could clearly see it, even the first day at the farm, the disconcerting effect he had on Chuck, and he couldn’t deny the powerful arousal provoked by his reaction.

There was some interesting sounding rustling behind him. “Can I turn around yet, princess, or is your bare ass still up in the air?”

“Uh – hang on! Don’t turn!”

The rustling noises began to pick up speed.

“Christ,” Casey muttered, a curse at his own lack of control.

You have no idea, do you kid?

It couldn’t help but make him speculate, though, on the anxious feeling he’d get out of him tonight. Because if he was jittery over the clothes, he sure as hell would squawk over the sleeping arrangements.

-x- End Chapter Five Sins Fell Angels-x-


	6. Chapter Six

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Six

-x-

Just as he re-stuffed the top corner of the ridiculously small cloth - Chuck refused to call it a towel – into a makeshift kilt riding low on his hips, he slanted a self-conscious look to the kitchen. It confirmed what he sensed. That his ex-lover had been eyeing him while he struggled to cover himself.

“Just great,” the kid muttered, and he instantly felt like the man he once saw at a carnival freak show. After all, he had to be quite a sight for someone who had gone through the wringer, patches of bruises here and there along his ribcage, still damp from his forced bath.

This was on top of his ever-present bashfulness of revealing his body in front of someone like Casey. Or, face it, anyone. It was made worse by the fact he had lost a little weight and was about two weeks past very badly needing a haircut.

Chuck brushed the wayward curls off his forehead and folded his arms over his bare chest. That’s what Casey was staring at no doubt, wondering how desperate he had been in the first place to bed a man who looked like him. The past week of his life had done the kid no favors, either, and an outsider may think what happened at the farm was Casey simply giving him a sympathy fuck – or ten - before hitting the road.

God, maybe he should think of something else.

“So, you said there may be clothes when I’m done?” Chuck gave a furtive glimpse down to make sure nothing important was on display. “Because I think I’m dry now.”

Casey’s eyes dropped down to his naked chest, down to the scrap of cloth wrapped around his hips and ending high on his thighs, and finally back to meet his face. After the larger man handed them off, the kid waited for him to turn.

“Uh, privacy?”

Casey rolled his eyes and pivoted around. The kid swore he heard him say something about discretion being the death of him.

“A little modesty might suit you, too, you know?” Chuck mumbled petulantly, shoving his arms down the sleeves. While he fastened the buttons of a surprisingly soft blue shirt, the kid heard Casey say something else under his breath. “What ... was that for me?”

“Nah,” Casey said. “Hope you don’t mind, but they’re going to be slightly big on you. Ever see a stick in burlap bag?”

“Um, they are ... over-sized. No – don’t turn yet – no pants!”

Casey let out an impatient sigh and another mutter. “You’re a piece of work. You know that, right, brown eyes?”

“Just because I don’t parade around naked? Like you did – up in the loft? Sheesh.”

“Think about that much?” a deep teasing voice came back.

“Hilarious.” So what if he did?

Chuck pointed a sour look at the back of Casey’s head and sped up. The sleep pants the larger man had offered up were nice – and a paradox, the kid thought. Who knew that a man who did God-knows-what during the day had to have comfy PJs at night?

The kid tied up the drawstring at the waist and looked down at himself. The length of the loose legs was about right. The rest, not so much, but it beat being naked.

“Ta da. You can turn around.”

When Casey turned, he looked over at the kid with an expression Chuck couldn’t decipher ... which made it a lot like his other inscrutable faces, he decided. But then he saw a tiny flicker of something else.

Was Casey ... disappointed in him? Mad? Beyond the usual angry-center baseline?

“I – what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Casey answered.

No, there was definitely something wrong, so Chuck double checked himself. “It’s pretty loose. Are you sure there’s nothing hanging out that shouldn’t be?” he tried to joke.

That just got him a squint.

“Sooo, that would be a no to indecency.” The kid withheld any other attempts at humor. Easy enough, since the fact that he was still a hostage had a way of sucking fun out of the situation.

Chuck kept the frown off his face and plopped down in one of the chairs near the fire. As he stared blankly at the low flames, lapping the sides of the logs, the answer trickled into his mind.

It was him. Chuck, just being here, being alive, was a walking, talking reminder of Casey’s greatest moment of weakness.

No, failure.

That wasn’t dissatisfaction in his expression, dummy. That was regret.

Even if Casey was trying to help him, maybe he only had remorse, falling for a man like him. Falling? He didn’t fall, did he? Used him. A dalliance, simple as that, to fill a hole in his soul temporarily with sex and some company, as he had nothing else to do while he was stuck in hiding at the farm.

Chuck looked down at his hands. All right, hold on. Was that fair to Casey? Or was it his admittedly overactive imagination at work?

God, how would he know? The man was utterly impossible to read.

Chuck shifted his gaze to Casey, standing with his broad back to him at the sink. Don’t be a complete coward. Get up and say something to him.

“Can – can I help you over there?” Chuck called out.

“Almost done.” Casey took the handle of the sink’s hand pump and worked it up and down a few times, washing their dishes. He didn’t bother to turn around as he stacked the dinnerware next to the sink to dry. “You’re beat from the trail I’m guessing, so as soon as I’m done, we’re going to hit the sack.

When he processed the use of we in that sentence, Chuck raised an eyebrow. No way. Casey did not think ... that?

Did he?

Considering he had been busy trying to pull off his Billy the Kid routine by shooting himself out of this mess, and then spent yet more time humiliatingly naked, the kid took a few minutes to assess the accommodations. Most notably, the number of bedrooms.

The lodge made his cabin look like a hovel, plain as that. The living area, with its stone fireplace and cushioned leather chairs, was an easy spot to get comfortable. Even the kitchen area was twice the size of his. In the center was a large farm table, and against one wall was the huge potbelly stove where Casey had fried the fish and potatoes for dinner.

It was homey. Except for, well, the implication of it all. Because if Casey thought ‘homey’ extended beyond that curtain – no. Just no.

Okay, not yet, at least, right?

Chuck peered over at the corner, sectioned off with a blanket as a curtain. Casey had said there was a bed back there, didn’t he? Casting a glance over his shoulder, the kid slinked to the other side of the room, lifting one corner of the curtain.

Huh. Chuck wanted to keep an open mind about this, but when his eyes adjusted to the dark, he felt his eyebrows go up. It was rather expansive and incredible looking compared to the floor of his cell, but most definitely only one bed.

One?

That bastard. Because if he even thought for one minute that ....

“Problem?” a voice said from behind him. “See something back there?”

“What – ah –” Chuck spun around and almost knocked into Casey, save for the larger man’s hand taking hold of his arm to steady him. Perfect. Another reason to tease him about his gracefulness. “Uh, no. No problem. Just wanted to see if there was ... indoor plumbing?”

Casey gave him a look. “You do know, kid, you’re not in your fancy mansion in Boston, eh? The outhouse is through the back door if you’re looking.”

Plumbing? God, really, that was the best he could come up with?! The kid wanted to slap a palm over his face, but instead he put his hands in his pockets and flashed a weak smile. “Ah – handy. I’ll just – well. Be right back.”

When he returned, the kid moved into the sitting area and sunk down into a chair. As he watched Casey feed another log into the fire, he made up his mind. It was time to get some answers.

“I’m not ... tired, actually,” Chuck started, wetting his lips, “so if you want to lay out your plans tonight, I’d like to hear them.”

Casey rose to his feet and ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, what I meant, brown eyes, is that I’m tuckered out, so if you don’t mind, it can wait.”

“But – but you do have a plan?”

“Yeah, I have a plan.” Casey stooped and put his bear paws on either side of the chair’s arms, lowered his face to meet his eyes. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow when we’re up at the mine. You still have a job to do.”

“My ... job?” Chuck tilted his head at him. “Please tell me you’re talking about my job of getting out of here,” he said slowly, emphasizing each syllable, “and not referring to any cockamamie idea that includes me actually doing the job for -”

“Liam.” Casey didn’t move away, didn’t blink. “Don’t look so insulted, twerp. That’s exactly what I mean.” Perhaps in an attempt to placate him, Casey reached out to his hand, brushed a few fingers over his knuckles. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. You’re gonna have to do it.”

Chuck sat up taller in his seat, shaking his head slowly. The surge of heat he felt had nothing to do with sitting close to the fire.

“Is this your idea of a joke?”

“No.”

“I’m supposed to help him? That was part of your plan?”

“Yes.”

“Can I tell you something?”

Casey rolled his eyes. “No, but you will anyway.”

“Glad you get me,” Chuck snapped back. “Here’s one for you. Are you out of your freaking mind? Do you think for one minute that I’m going to help him? He’s ... he’s –” Chuck had to pause, grasping for the words. “Genghis Khan and Attila the Hun, all rolled up into one insanely dysfunctional excuse for a human!”

“Sorry, kid,” Casey said impatiently. “There’s no other way.”

“There has to be.”

“You heard Liam. If you don’t, I have to leave for a few days and retrieve someone who can.”

“Fine! Then do it.”

“And leave you with your two buddies from the trail? The ones that brought you to Black Rock?”

Chuck figured he should act nonchalant about that, but his shoulder’s hunched forward at the mention of them. “I – I don’t care. I’ve survived it before, and came out fine, didn’t I? At least I’d get rid you – trying to distract me from getting away!”

“You’re going to do it,” Casey told him.

“Is that what you want?” Chuck waited and jolted out from under his arm suddenly. He quickly strode away, not stopping until there was a large table between them and enough breathing space to challenge Casey. “Well, how about this. Here’s my plan,” the kid ground out loud enough to get it through his granite-like head. “I refuse to help a man who - who tried to take my life from me!”

“I told you already,” Casey answered, visibly perturbed that Chuck snuck by him. “He’s not going to succeed, kid.”

“That’s my assurance?” Chuck snorted. “You know what? You two could’ve come up with something better than that, couldn’t you? What an idiot I was. I’m starting to see what your real plan is.”

“Back to not trusting me. Can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve been as fickle as a goddamn princess sifting through suitors. Still looking for your knight in shining armor, cupcake?”

“Fickle?” Chuck bristled. Fuck him. “Can you blame me? Or did you forget my circumstances?”

“Not blaming you, kid.” Casey prowled closer, eyeing him with his ‘hard ass just rode in’ face. “That’s why I didn’t want to bring this up until tomorrow morning. After a good night’s sleep and a little time to convince you why you should.”

Chuck automatically backed up a step. It made him angry with himself, but who could blame him? His brain was too busy spinning, going in every possible direction.

“Convince me? Never heard it worded quite like that before, but nice.” Okay, the derisive sound that Casey had perfected – hell, he probably invented it – being flung back at him was going to get his ass kicked, but Chuck barreled on. “This was all a plan, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, this was our plan to deceive you.” Casey set his teeth. “Fuck you over really good. Literally, too. Working so far, isn’t it?”

The kid had no appreciation whatsoever for Casey’s wit at this juncture. “You know what?” he bit out, straightening defiantly. “Maybe you’re on to something there, John.”

Hearing the tone, Casey matched the kid’s slight adjustment in his stance. Obviously, he wasn’t about to be out-dick-headed by anyone, let alone a pup. “I’m only saying this once, kid,” he growled. “I don’t think you should start something you have no chance of finishing.”

“’Be nice to me’, he told you, right?” Chuck said hotly, folding his arms over the baggy shirt. “Get me to ‘trust you’. Who knows? He probably said I’ll give him to you – all alone up the mountains – so that you can fuck obedience right into him! Make him forget what he’s up against –”

“If you don’t shut the hell up –”

“Was that it? Is that what you’re supposed to be doing right now? Screw my brains out and any common sense I have left after the first mistake?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Casey began in a voice so deathly quiet it drove a spike through the kid. “You think I want to see you like this? After what those men did to you? Starve you, beat you? You think I went so far as to go along with that – just to get you up here with me?”

Chuck stared at him for a full half minute as the fire hissed and sizzled, flickering a glow over Casey’s hard profile. The look alone should’ve made him shit himself, but he was wearing Casey’s pants, and something told him the big guy would take offence with that.

“No.” He sighed. “That’s not what I meant – not exactly, though it may have sounded like a horrible accusation of sorts.”

“Then what exactly did you mean, Bartowski?”

Chuck blinked at him as Casey glowered. The words he had put out words were so hurtful. More so that part of him still wondered if they were true. “You were right about one thing.”

Casey didn’t answer, his eyes were burning so hot that Chuck could feel pinpricks of fire along his neck.

“You said that this may look differently in the morning.” Chuck tightened his arms over his chest to lock in warmth, but he was still cold. “I’m going to bed.”

Giving one nod, the kid was over at the curtain before Casey could advance on him.

“Great. Now you want to go to bed,” he heard Casey say.

Not quite, he wanted to snap back at him. There was no way Casey could guess what he was going to do next. It was too bad for him that Chuck sprang into action on a bolt of empowerment. So you always need to be in control, Casey? Well, sorry to take you off guard.

Chuck was careful to only draw the curtain back to give himself a small opening, and let it fall again with Casey on the other side. Sure, they would sleep, but not the way the big asshole had to be thinking.

He felt around in the near darkness of the sleeping alcove, drawing his hands over the bed until he had what he was looking for. The kid emerged from behind the curtain a minute later with a few blankets stuffed under his arm. Not looking at Casey, he padded across the floor to opening in front of the dying fire and made a show of moving a chair off to the side a bit.

“This looks to be as good as any place,” Chuck said under his breath, though purposely loud enough for Casey to hear him. “Mind moving your foot out of the way? I’d like to have this blanket down first so I can lay on it. The floor isn’t exactly soft, is it?”

No answer. Not that he expected one.

Does this upset your plans, big guy?

Out of the corner of his eye, however, Chuck could see the rather large foot slide back out of the way. “Thank you,” he said pertly and threw up his arms to parachute the blanket neatly in front of the fire. “Would you mind adjusting that corner over there?”

Chuck didn’t look up at him, because by now he was sure Casey’s eyes could singe his hair. Without so much as a grunt from Casey, the foot shifted and a big toe helped to neaten the blanket. “That’s should work,” the kid said. “Appreciate your help.”

All right, this smartass-ery was going to get his butt kicked, but seriously? He didn’t care what the big dick head thought.

“Let’s see ....” Chuck tapped his own cheek. “Extra blanket? Check. Pillow? And check again. Looks like I’m all set.”

Fluffing out another blanket he had nabbed from Casey’s bed, he got down flat on his back and wriggled his shoulders. “Huh. Deceptively more cushy than it looks.” Actually, it was like sleeping on a sheet of rock, but no way would he tell Casey that. “Mind turning the lantern down?”

The feet next to him stayed planted.

Uh-oh. Maybe he had pushed his luck by pressing Casey into domestic servitude.

Some seconds passed before Chuck dared to finally look at him. Up, up his gaze went, over the long legs, his shirt, at last landing on his face. He immediately wished he hadn’t been too tempted to see his reaction. That deadly countenance, pointed at him, would be something to ponder later. Much later.

John Casey wasn’t one to give away an iota of emotion, but the kid had tuned in enough to know the larger man was not pleased. He also seemed to be giving careful consideration to his next move.

Chuck quickly pulled the blanket up to his chin and closed his eyes. “Night-ty night,” he told him. It occurred to Chuck a heartbeat later that he conceivably crossed the line right then.

He listened, waiting to hear for the sound of his feet moving away. That didn’t happen.

Don’t look, don’t look ... do not –

Oh. What was that?

As Chuck tried to give himself the ‘grow a pair’ pep talk, there was a nudge against one side of his ribcage. A foot?

Just as he attempted to guess without opening his eyes, there was another nudge on his other side.

Not good.

Because if those were Casey’s feet, that meant Casey was now standing directly over him. It also meant the kid wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

A rustling sound almost made him crack one eye open. But no, he wouldn’t give Casey that courtesy.

“Hm,” he heard overhead.

Then to demonstrate the ease at which he had taken the upper hand, Casey’s feet at his sides squeezed in just a little. Not enough to send a twinge over his bruised left ribcage, but enough to convey a clear message.

Someone was about to get his leash yanked.

“Need any other assistance there, brown eyes, or are you all set for the night?”

Crap. Now that Casey had spoken up, he’d have to at least acknowledge him. Letting his eyes drift open, Chuck looked up to find Casey studying his face with darkly amused baby blues. More disconcerting, he was hunkered down over his middle, casually resting his forearms on his knees and giving away nothing.

“Um, no ... no thanks,” Chuck replied. “I think I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?” Casey loomed over him, not moving, and the kid could feel pulsing heat from his body. On the surface, the question was smooth, polite, even. Chuck was well aware, however, of the motivation underneath that tone. “Water ... another blanket?”

Chuck gulped. Whatever button he had pushed, the kid wished there was a switch to turn it off.

“N-no,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “That’s about it for me.”

Casey lowered his head, but Chuck could only register the size and closeness of those forearms. They were like logs, for crying out loud. “Good. Now I have a question for you.”

“Can it wait until morning? I have been just slammed today, so I wouldn’t mind -”

“What the fuck,” Casey cut in, “do you think you’re doing?”

Put that way, there was no right answer.

Chuck swallowed, belaying his nervousness, and pulled the blanket higher on his neck. “I’d like to get some sleep now.”

“On the floor?” Casey asked.

From the look in his eyes, Chuck knew that if there was any chance at all to squirm out from under him, now would the time. “Did the horizontal position give it away?” he grumbled, trying to sit up. “Could you move your – ah.”

Instead of moving, the larger man shifted his feet a fraction inward, and now Chuck was stuck like a rabbit between the jaws of a trap. Casey made him think about that by giving him a long look down his body. “Here, I suppose?”

“That’s right.” Chuck cleared his throat. He knew that he needed to keep that stutter-y nuisance out of his voice, though his eyes went wide. “By myself.”

“Really,” Casey said, still eyeing him narrowly. He then reached down and gave the kid a decisive slap on the hip that joggled him against his other boot. “Okay, that’s it. Come on, brown eyes. I’ve had enough of your games for tonight.”

“So have I. And if you don’t mind, I’m going – hey.” He lurched at Casey’s sudden movement, but it was too late to act. “What – what are – Hey!”

“Let’s go,” Casey said. Two strong arms slid under Chuck, one at his knees while the other dragged under his shoulders. Just like that, they tightened, taking blankets and all. Casey then lifted him and strode towards the sleeping alcove, as if he was an obstinate child, or a woman being carried off to bed in a surge of passion by her impatient lover. “Need any more of your advice tonight, I’ll ask.”

“Wait!” Chuck spouted indignantly. “You can’t -”

“Yeah? Lighter than you used to be, cupcake.”

“What – what are you doing!” Even with his struggles, it wasn’t so hard for Casey to clamp down with his arms and use the blanket to keep him immobilized. “Ow – are you insane? I said you can’t do this!”

“Heh.” Casey used his shoulder to sweep the curtain to the side. They were immediately bathed in the darkness of the alcove. “Seems like I just did, kid.”

“And now you’re going to put me down!” Chuck tried to bump him away, but Casey used his chest as an anchor to pin him against his torso, holding him tightly.

“No reason to get rambunctious,” Casey said, a little breathless. “I’m trying to help.”

“This is what you call help?” Being pressed to his body, every contact point brought hyperawareness, a burst of sparks over Chuck’s skin. It was scary how easily he could do that. “Did you hear me? Are you a – caveman or something? Down!”

“Just correcting your mistake, kid. This is the bed. Back here.” As Casey moved to the mattress, Chuck could feel the shift and bunching of every muscle under his thin shirt. It reminded him he had zero chance of breaking free, but he had to try.

Chuck swung an elbow, feet flailing, head jerking ... and there. He got a hand free. “Bastard ....” he yelped, and catching hold of the side of Casey’s open shirt, he yanked hard enough to hear the rip of fabric. At the clench of powerful arms, a warning that he should stop, Chuck writhed and threw a clumsy punch at his face. “Drop me!”

“Gladly.” Casey ducked to the side, avoiding the punch, and responded by tossing him onto the bed like a sack of flour. “Stay.”

“The hell I will,” Chuck exclaimed, scrambling backwards on the bed until his spine smacked against the wall. With nowhere else to go, he pulled the blanket up and shook his head in shock. “If you think ... for one minute that I’m – the answer is no.”

“No?” Casey inquired.

“You – you know what I m-mean.”

Casey put a knee on the bed, then both hands and angled his body almost on top of him. “Kid, there are times when your idiocy surpasses even my -”

“After what I told you?” Chuck felt his stomach plunge. “You would try to -”

“Mind telling me what the hell you’re talking about?”

“I – the one time.” Chuck digested the fact that he had no way of getting past him, so he stayed still, even though one of the wall’s logs dug into his shoulders. It beat getting closer to Casey. “My ... roommate.”

Casey’s blue eyes drifted lower, over his mouth, the blanket clutched in his hands, and finally back up to his face. “I give up, kid.”

“Don’t make me say it.”

Casey started to open his mouth again, no doubt to tell him for once he better start talking, but he stopped all at once. “Hold on.” He edged in closer, searching the kid’s face. “Are you by any chance talking about the asshole?”

Chuck answered by tugging on the cover, tightening it around him.

“You have got to be - the one who raped you?” Casey’s voice was low as death, though the kid got a sense that the repressed urge to kill was not entirely pointed at him. “Is that what you think this is about?”

Chuck was ruffled by the incredulous tone. “If I recall correctly – and I think I do,” he said, “that was your nomenclature. Not mine.”

“Oh, hell.” That surprised a humorless laugh out of Casey before he gave him a look torn between provoked and resentful. “Always the same with you, isn’t it, kid? Getting lost in the semantics? We are talking about the unforeseen poaching of your virginity by that little weasel.”

“I – poaching?”

“Shut it.” The large pair of hands on either side of his knees for some reason became fists. After a freaking eternity, Casey moved in until the kid’s vision was filled with nothing but the face of a warrior. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you think that I brought you here to -”

“What am I supposed to think?” Chuck wet his throat, dry as a desert. “You picked me up and dragged me to bed -!”

“Oh my fucking aching ass,” Casey muttered, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. The stiff line of his shoulders seemed to relax a smidgen, but the kid thought it may be an optical illusion. His face hadn’t loosened up at all. “Damn it all to hell.”

Chuck blinked up at him. “Is that ... meant for me?”

“No, you little idiot.” Casey lifted a hand, lightening quick, and gave him a small cuff on the head. It didn’t hurt, but it let the kid know he needed to pay attention. “How many days ago did they take you?”

“How many?” Chuck lowered his brows in confusion. “I – guess I don’t remem -”

“Answer the goddamn question.”

The brusqueness in his tone brought Chuck up short. “It was six days,” he replied a little hoarsely, his fingers instinctively releasing the death grip on the blanket. “Tomorrow is a week.”

“Seven days ... seven nights,” Casey repeated. “And how many of those have you spent in a bed ... like this one?”

“A bed?” Chuck looked down at the mattress but really, how many beds were there? What was Casey getting at? “None, of course. I was lucky to get a blanket. Those two - the jerks I told you about – they left me outside in the rain one night.”

“So, you little genius-numb nuts,” Casey continued, “if only one of us gets the bed tonight, don’t you think it should be you?”

“Me?” Chuck goggled at him. “I have to apologize for being more or less dense right now ... but can you say something that makes sense?”

“Idiot,” Casey said under his breath. “I’m saying you’re taking the bed tonight.”

“What?”

Casey gave him a ‘taking no more of your shit’ look and snatched the blanket out of his hand. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Chuck answered habitually because he had no idea what else to say. The kid watched him, all broad back and bear-like stance, as he unfolded the blanket and got down on the floor. Without so much as a glimpse at Chuck, Casey then stretched out facing the fire. His body was too long for the space so it meant his feet ended up under the rocking chair.

It didn’t look cozy at all, the kid guessed, but after a few adjustments on his side, Casey went still.

Chuck cast a pained look at Casey’s back. What the hell had just happened? He closed his eyes briefly and rested his aching head back against the cool wall. His body was a giant tremor by now, and he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in a few hours of sleep.

But what was he supposed to do? Let Casey sleep on the floor? In a way, wasn’t it Casey’s fault for not explaining what he intended in the first place? Honestly, he has a serious problem with communication, or perhaps in this case the lack thereof. Maybe in the morning, he’d let him know he could’ve said something.

“Oh, crap,” the kid breathed, not loud enough for Casey to hear him. Chuck crawled inside the remaining blankets and pulled them up to his chin, tried frantically to shut off his brain. He should be able to sleep, right? It was a big bed, soft, enveloping his body heat, all those aches and pains cushioned for once.

Heaving a breath, the kid rolled on his side, getting a full view of Casey’s back. He could tell he wasn’t sleeping, either.

Chuck stared ahead, the flames in front of Casey sending wavering flashes of light about the walls, outlining his black silhouette. On the floor, and God he had done that to him.

Casey? Should he say his name?

No words came. But he could almost feel the mattress shift and move as he thought about the other man joining him. Chuck would open the covers, draw him in and let Casey spoon around him, warm skin pressing to him. Under the folds of the covers, his hand slipping ever so lightly over his waist. Casey would give him a sudden grounding, the awkwardness melting away.

Who was he kidding? Tonight? The other demons, doubt and fear, kept him from doing it, but in the morning, he had to face him.

He’d just have to man up and admit he made a mistake.

Feeling no better, Chuck laid his head on the pillow, knowing it was going to be an impossibly long night.

-x-

The thick aroma of brewed coffee. The sizzle of meat. Twigs snapping and popping in the potbelly stove. The comforting sounds and scents edged into his consciousness, teasing him like a thin band of sunlight through the curtains, forcing him to open one eye to a slit.

God, what a night.

Chuck had drifted off to sleep eventually, he figured, only because he knew he had to have rested in order to feel human again for the first time in a week. Propping himself up on an elbow, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and attempted to smooth his hair down a little since the curls had a tendency to spring up like prairie dogs all over after a night’s sleep.

He opened the curtain, which he had ultimately shut at some point deep in the night so that he would stop staring at Casey’s prone body. As the kid had guessed, the larger man was now over at the stove, his back to him as he worked on what Chuck hoped was their breakfast. By just the wonderful smells alone, it appeared Casey had been up for a while.

“Why is it I can tell you’re mad without looking at me?” Chuck whispered, scratching at his stubble and enjoying the view. The table blocked part of him, forcing Chuck to crane his neck if he wanted to secretly keep up this voyeuristic spy game he had going on. So what if he liked watching him.

The kid lay in the warmth of the blankets, shedding his emotional exhaustion, until Casey moved out of his line of sight. This was followed by the cranking of the hand pump.

Okay, now he was going to have to get up.

Rising, he pulled the drawstring tie on the pants, unrumpled the oversized shirt, and followed the scent out to the main room. And now he had a full view of his pissed-off lover, from his boots to his lighter brown hair. Though it was starting to curl, Casey’s locks were soft and short, not quite touching the back of his shirt collar.

Chuck sheepishly ran his hand over the back of his neck, opening and closing his mouth. What exactly was he going to say here? For a person born with a plethora of words, the gift – or curse – of delivering a constant stream of chatter in any clumsy situation, nothing came to mind.

To start, Casey didn’t even know he was here, and even if he did, would he able to endure Chuck’s presence after last night’s fiasco?

“Why don’t you go sit down,” Casey suggested gruffly. He kept at his task, not turning.

“Oh.” Chuck startled. “I didn’t realize you heard me.”

One of those thick shoulders lifted in a shrug. He went back to flipping a fry cake.

At that, Chuck squinted at his back. Now who was being a stubborn bastard?

“I can help,” the kid offered up, padding over behind him. “Can I – oh, I don’t know – pour you some coffee?”

“I’ll wait until I’m done here. Don’t want it to be cold.”

“Okay, then ... I guess I’ll wait, too.” Chuck watched him for a few seconds, struck by the way a person who should be large and clumsy had an unconscious grace even in the smallest, most mundane tasks. Chopping, pouring batter, everything. “Should I get water ... for the horses?”

“Did that an hour ago.”

“I see.” Chuck huffed, feeling like a bit of a guilty turd. He took a moment to appraise his physique as Casey added more firewood under the grate, muscles rolling beneath his shirt like the powerful curve of a river.

Every detail about him amazed the kid. Mostly that he was still here this morning, bothering himself with a gawky lost boy so far from home.

Obviously, simmering anger had dragged him out of bed sometime in the early hours before dawn. Chuck would’ve liked to have been there, and maybe he could’ve come up with the right thing to say then without having to wait here, hemming and hawing like a thief who had been a nabbed in the act.

The kid’s dark eyes shifted over him, stopping to scrutinize the back of that mulish head.

Well.

Just as he shoved his hands in his pockets, an idea formed. An act, really, since the words still fluttered like loose leaves in a wind storm.

Chuck straightened his back bravely and approached Casey from behind, the creaky floorboards giving away any opportunity of stealth. He didn’t care anymore. When he stood directly behind Casey’s back, the kid lifted his hands and placed his fingers on either side of the base of his neck. Warm, hard flesh under his fingertips made his own skin prickle.

Man, he was close. The power of the physical proximity, all around him, had the kid leaning into it until he stopped himself with a jolt.

“If there’s nothing I can do to help with breakfast,” he spoke softly, “do you think I could at least massage those kinks out of your shoulders?”

Olive branch, big guy. Are you interested?

Casey’s chin lifted, but he didn’t turn around. Another shrug, one that Chuck could feel under his fingertips.

The kid took that as acquiescence. “I’m ... sorry about the floor, okay?” It came out in a burst, and since Casey said nothing, he kept going. His fingers dug in, beginning an easy but deep rub, achingly aware of his lips close to the tempting throat. “I know you think I’ll only mess that up too, but maybe ... you’ll give me another chance?”

Casey grunted, skeptical, but even someone as hard-nosed as the other man had to know he wasn’t talking about the floor.

Progress. Maybe. Chuck just kept kneading that area, sweeping little circles with his thumbs, gentle. “Wow. I have no idea what these muscles are called. Right here?” To demonstrate, the kid lightly pinched the two rigid bands that swept from his neck to his shoulders. “But yours are ... hard.”

Even that part of him felt good.

Chuck had to tell him. He didn’t want to argue with him again. But now Casey acted like he didn’t know where they were right now. I’m here, listening to you, he wanted to say. The kid tried to ignore the feeling that Casey had just started the beginning of the end between them. Over a fricking little misunderstanding.

Well, he wasn’t going to let that happen. Being ignored only made Chuck work a bit harder, groping, and after a minute, he heard Casey let out a breath. He pictured him closing his eyes, certain he had when he bowed his head to give him access. Those muscles that Chuck had just touched, stroked, began to gradually relax.

“Like that, do you?”

“Not bad.”

“You’re warm, too.”

“It’s the stove.”

“It is, huh.” The kid wanted to differ, but kept kneading. Casey had a hell of a body, yet Chuck focused only on the part of him he figured had to be the sorest from the floor, hoping Casey would figure out it was a weak apology of sorts.

Chuck massaged his body in silence for a few more minutes, focusing on the tight lower neck and upper part of his shoulders, digging into firm muscles. The larger man didn’t move, apparently content to let the kid take care of him for once. Eventually, he slowed his hands, dwindling touches that became a caress. A few firm strokes between his shoulder blades got some attention, elicited a grunt ....

Chuck dithered, swallowed. “After I gave you so much pain last night,” he said quietly, brushing the tiny curls over Casey’s collar, “I figured I should try to smooth out everything I’ve torn apart ... and maybe put it back together?”

“How do you plan on doing that, kid?” Casey asked. His voice was still sardonic.

“Well, first, can you turn around?”

Casey hesitated and slid the fry cakes off the burner. It wasn’t until then that the kid noticed the whole batch looked to be charred around the edges. When he turned, Chuck couldn’t say what emotion he saw, but it was hidden there in his eyes.

“What do you want?”

Okay, that wasn’t exactly the reaction he had hoped for. Chuck ran his sweaty palms down the front of his loose pants and held one out. “Give me your hand.”

Casey’s mouth was held in a line taut with suspicion. His arms stayed locked at his side.

“I said give me your hand,” the kid repeated, and hastened to add, “Please.”

It seemed to take forever for Casey to begrudgingly place his hand in his. “There,” he said. “Now what?”

“Here.” Chuck lifted their hands to eye level, their palms aligned perfectly; long fingers stretched out and pressed together to the fingertips. “Never found anyone with hands that I could do this,” he said so softly, and he scrunched his brows at the sight of their two hands together, mostly because he was surprised that Casey was letting him do this. “None of them ever fit.”

Long moments passed. Casey had gone still. “What that’s supposed to mean?”

Chuck’s face was serious as they both stared ahead at their palms clasped together. “It means,” the kid said, measuring every word, “from here on out, I’m putting my life in your hands. You’ve been the one that took responsibility. You put my life ahead of yours, ahead of everything ... and I did nothing but give you pain and shit for it.” He shifted his dark eyes from their hands to Casey’s face. “I’m done fighting you. Whatever plan you have, whatever way you think we can find a way out of this, I’m going to be with you. I promise.”

Casey shook his head. Chuck didn’t know how to interpret the meaning behind no. He only knew it hurt. God, he had made another giant mistake. Here he was, caught up in the worst jumbled mess of his life. And Casey was telling it didn’t matter anymore.

That was all he had. Nothing else to say. But the last thing he needed was to appear vulnerable.

Chuck started to back up.

Except immediately, he couldn’t do that, either.

Casey snaked a protective arm around his waist, locking the kid in a blanketing, reassuring strength, hard chest pressing into his, powerful arms holding him close. Deep, familiar heat settled in the base of his spine. Just as quickly, there was a brush of fingers along the top of his ass. Well, that could mean anything, an accident, or nothing. Probably nothing.

“Casey?” the kid managed when the arm tightened, and thanks to the boots Casey wore and the fact that Chuck was in his bare feet, the kid had to tip his chin slightly to meet his eyes. “Are you still -”

“Your life is in my hands, eh?” Casey shook his head again, and now with eyes gleaming a hairsbreadth away, Chuck could translate the subtle amusement in them. “Isn’t that kind of girly, Bartowski?” he rumbled, letting his gaze stray down his body. “Even for you?”

Instead of returning that with a snappy remark, the hardness that had ebbed from Casey’s face made the kid smile, small yet crooked. “We are talking about my life here, aren’t we?”

Casey moved his fingers and entwined one of Chuck’s hands with his. Impossible, now, to distinguish a hand from the other. They were one.

“Ours, kid.”

Chuck smiled, not the beaming man-blinder, but damn close enough.

Of course, after that, there was nothing else to say.

So Casey leaned forward, bent his head before Chuck could draw back, catching his lips. Then he kissed him, long and deep, and there was that little tremor to Chuck’s limbs that tightened all of his wiry muscles. Nerves, but more than nerves, and in the shadows, warm, still with the scent of clean skin and coffee, he hung on to an anchor of banded steel. It took saying words that cut like rusty saw blades to get here, rash statements and loaded guns.

That was over now.

The kid pushed aside any skittish formalities of surrender, and finally, he just gave in to it.

-x-End Chapter Six Sins Fell Angels-x-


	7. Chapter Seven

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Seven

-x-

 

So Casey leaned forward, bent his head before Chuck could draw back, catching his lips. Then he kissed him, long and deep, and there was that sexy little tremor to Chuck’s limbs that tightened all of his wiry muscles. Nerves, but more than nerves, and in the shadows, warm, still with the scent of clean skin and coffee, he hung on to an anchor of banded steel. It took saying words that cut like rusty saw blades to get here, rash statements and loaded guns.

That was over now.

The kid pushed aside any skittish formalities of surrender, and finally, he just gave in to it.

-x-

Chuck hadn’t intended to kiss him. Really, he hadn’t at all. After last night’s fiasco? He half expected to be on horseback returning to Liam, with Casey making good on his threat of delivering him to his father with a bow on his ass. Maybe figuring he wasn’t worth the trouble.

But holy crap, he can kiss. And when he put his hand in Casey’s, like two men taking an oath to each other, Chuck was unable to resist getting drawn in by the powerful grip. The basic fact was that he ... loved the repressed strength he could feel whenever he touched Casey’s hands. When they brushed over his skin. His intimidating physique that could lay out any man who got in his face began there, strong fingers, big hands. Potent enough to leave bruises, gentle enough to know some things were meant to be held cautiously as glass.

Only Casey’s hand, sliding down his hip to grip his ass and tease his crease, returned Chuck somewhat to himself. He shouldn’t be doing this. Too soon. Not ready. So despite the overwhelming desire to ignore those voices, the kid managed to pull back.

“Casey?” Chuck said, hoarse, eyes drifting down to Casey’s warm moist lips. “I ....” Can’t.

Casey looked inquiringly and groaned, but his other hand came around to clutch his hip one more time, gently rock into the kid where their thighs brushed. “You sure ...? Thought you liked it....” Casey’s voice was rich, velvet. “What’re you thinking?”

That I can’t tell you no? Even when I should? That being stripped of my life, I can’t tell if you love me or hate me for what I’ve done to you?

No, he didn’t hate him. That wasn’t fair.

Chuck wavered, liking the feel of his hand on him, sliding around his waist. But no. He then stepped backwards and crossed his arms over his chest until he realized how bad that looked. Building a wall now, dummy?

“Listen,” he started again, and not knowing what to do with his hands, he pushed them through his hair like the awkward, gangly kid he felt he was. “What I mean is that I’m sorry ... but I’m afraid, okay? There. I said it. I just ... can’t right now.”

God, he wanted to, though. Chuck tortured himself by glancing over at him, and it only confirmed his little itch. Jeans tight over muscular thighs, clean white shirt, half unbuttoned, chest hair peeking out at the V. Sexy stubble on his jaw, his light brown hair a little spiky and messy and -

Okay, this is not helping. Step away from the slightly aroused, extremely handsome man before someone gets hurt. Or finds more trouble.

“Can’t?” Casey leaned a shoulder against a doorframe and studied the kid for a long minute before he let out a soft snort. “You’re always going to remind me ... I have to go slow with you. No matter how damn hard it’s going to be.”

“I’m ... sorry,” was the only thing Chuck could think to say.

Casey grunted and rubbed the back of his neck. “For almost shooting me? Or keeping those near-virgin legs locked together like a bank vault?”

“Um, both?” Chuck stammered, backing up a step until he saw Casey’s attempt to suppress a smart-ass smile. “Oh, I see. Sarcasm to bridge the incredibly uncomfortable moment between us. So is there ever going to be a time when teasing me is declared illegal?”

“Nope,” Casey said. “As long as you’re you, cupcake, it’s pretty much open season.”

Chuck sighed, exasperated, and concluded it was safe to approach him again. “Good to know.” He leaned in and stole one more kiss, this one chaste. “Thank you for not, well ....”

“Convincing you to see it my way?” Casey was silent for a moment, chewing the inside of his mouth in a contemplative manner before he set a hand on the table. “Sure you can’t be swayed, brown eyes? Wanna climb up here and see how sturdy it is?”

Chuck blinked. “Wow. You weren’t done with the teasing, were you?”

“Nah.” Casey’s eyes glinted with amusement. “And now that you’ve decided not to make yourself useful, I suppose you want me to finish breakfast for you?”

“Are any of those fry cakes not burnt?” the kid asked, smiling sweetly.

Casey grumbled and turned to the stove.

Thank God. The sweat-covered images had slipped in like smoke under a door, and resolve was easier to cling to without having to look at over six feet of hard-bodied temptation.

Glancing down at his bare feet, Chuck moved over to the pack that Casey had left slung over the chair and began to methodically dig through it. “Do you have any spare clean socks?” he asked, not looking up. “Let’s see. Undershorts. T-shirt. Hey – what’s in -? Ow!” A sharp slap to the knuckles had Chuck yanking his hand away, shaking off the sting. “Why -!”

“Paws off my stuff.” Casey stood with the spatula poised to swat again if he even thought of it. “Don’t need you digging through my things, boyo.”

“I – I was only looking.” Granted, that was lame, but like the popping of floodgates, his brain did swing into action. “What are you hiding, anyway?”

“Hands.”

When Casey gave the squint of warning, Chuck’s palms flew up. “See? They’re out, okay?”

Satisfied that his threat hit the target, Casey turned to the stove, muttering under his breath, “I see you have no problem putting ‘em where I don’t want them, eh?”

“Sorry,” Chuck said, leaning a hip on the side of the farm table and immediately trying to block out the lewd proposition. Or even to picture said lewd act. Yep, that too.

Wow. He didn’t mean to test it with a little wobble, but Casey was right about its sturdiness – but that would be throwing away all common sense, now, wouldn’t it –

“Staring at my ass isn’t gonna get breakfast ready any faster, kid.”

“You – you didn’t even turn around!”

“So ... I was right?”

Chuck pointed a dirty look at his back, baffled, before he quickly changed the subject. His curiosity was piqued. “Your pack. Possessive much?” he asked.

“If something belongs to me, yeah. You could say that.” Casey lifted a brow at the insinuation and smirked when Chuck couldn’t hold back the flush on his cheeks. “My pack, you have to ask to touch. Other things, I don’t mind so much.”

Chuck blushed harder. Why did he even think he could compete with Casey’s flirty, rough banter? Honestly, the kid had to concede he was still a bit of an amateur at saying anything remotely sexual. Meanwhile, Casey seemed to have snagged a prize at it or something.

“I ... all righty, then,” Chuck said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ll let you get back in the kitchen. Please,” he added when Casey narrowed his eyes at him.

“Look who thinks he’s still in charge. Do I need to be worried, kid?”

“Um, it’s the little thing with the gun, isn’t it? Are you still mad?”

“You still withholding favors?”

“I – what?”

Casey rolled his eyes and pointed his chin towards the door. “Firewood. I need you to gather some for tonight. Then get some more water for the horses. When you’re done, see if your clothes are dry.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” With a droll look, Chuck pretended to half bow at him. “Anything else?”

“So now you’re taking orders?” Casey turned to him and set down the spatula before he glanced at the table. “Why don’t you climb up there, pancake?”

Okay, he was yanking his chain again, but that didn’t stop Chuck’s mouth from falling open at the non-repentant leer. And knowing it would take zero persuasion for Casey to burn breakfast again and take advantage of any flat surface, the kid backed up and scurried out to get the firewood and water before the larger man changed his mind about allowing him to take it slow.

A deep chuckle followed him, making his ears burn.

“Jerk,” Chuck said without rancor, but there was no denying what Casey meant. The gaze he had swept over him, sliding down his body like a lazy path of warm water, made Chuck’s toes curl.

The table? And he would’ve too!

Damn.

As he piled logs in his arms, Chuck shook his head to clear out his thoughts. No doubt about it. Holding tight to his abstinence until Casey got them out of this mess was going to be a bitch.

-x-

As they ate breakfast at the kitchen table, it was obvious to Chuck that Casey tried to keep the conversation light. He had to know that the shit stirring between them until just an hour ago still had the kid’s mind reeling. So circumventing the palpable matters at hand, he spoke up only now and then, and only to bring up agreeable topics. An off-hand comment that Chuck should’ve been up early enough to see the lake at dawn, golden and glittering. Then a mention that it seemed he was healing, and that Casey would check on his ribs later tonight.

Chuck tried to focus on those things, and not think about where his brain wanted to take him. But each minute drew them closer to having to talk about real things, things that could get them killed, and Casey could go on avoiding topics for, well, pretty much his lifetime.

“I need to tell you something,” Chuck said in haste, reaching over to set down his cup. “Two things, actually.”

He had caught Casey in the middle of chewing. The larger man paused before he swallowed. “Listening.”

“Um ... first, I think I need to say thank you.” Chuck licked his lips, knowing he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “You tried to take care of me ... and I didn’t really appreciate it. Partners should trust each other – and I realize you’re helping me, okay? All that stuff I said last night, and then I went and made you -”

“Stop apologizing,” Casey broke in gruffly. “No more thinking this is your fault.”

“Because I really, really should not have –”

“Chuck.” Casey put down his fork and held up a hand to stop him. “Finish your breakfast.”

“Oh. Well, uh, there’s one more thing.” Chuck waited a moment before he attempted to explain what he couldn’t put his finger on. “I know ... we have to go back. Play the charade for a few more days – and I really want to know how that is going to work, by the way. But I need you to trust my instincts on this.”

“What are you getting at?” Suspicion weighted down his words.

“I’m only going back because I have faith in you, but ... I have a feeling ... ah, it’s ... I can’t really ....”

“I want to hear it,” Casey demanded. He folded his arms in front of him, waiting.

Chuck obeyed, reluctant and self-conscious. “Those two ... back at Black Rock? I just have this feeling ... they’re going to try and hurt me.” He looked up at Casey and halted. “You can laugh now.”

Apparently, Casey didn’t hear him or had missed the joke, because for some reason, he wasn’t laughing. Instead, he sat up in his chair, casting a look at him that could melt iron.

Uh-oh. What was that all about?

“Sam and Jacob?” Casey inquired carefully.

“I didn’t know they gave names to pet snakes. Amusing, really.”

“Did they say something to you?”

An austere, never flustered John Casey was now eyeing him with an expression that had Chuck’s stomach fluttering a bit. “There was something, I don’t know, strange in the way they whispered ... and looked at me,” the kid answered, fiddling with his cup so he could avoid his eyes. “Maybe it was just my imagination. I mean, most nights, I was ... too cold or hungry to hear what they were saying.”

A growl so fierce and low made Chuck wonder if a bear had wandered in to share breakfast with them. Then he realized it was a deadly noise coming from the vicinity of Casey’s lower chest.

“Do you remember anything else?”

“Well – I ....” Not knowing what to say, Chuck just shrugged to himself.

“That’s it,” Casey said, turning his knife between his fingers before setting it down. “On the way back tomorrow, you’re going to tell me all of it. I want to know everything you can remember before we see them again.”

“I’ll ... do my best,” Chuck promised, because when a man looked at him like that, there was nothing else to say.

Without a word, Casey rose so abruptly his knee hit the table, jarring the plates and silverware. Fortunately, nothing toppled, but it took everything in Chuck’s willpower not to scramble back in surprise when he reached out to him.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Casey said quietly, and a hand gentled on his neck, thumb stroking the pulse. “I’m not going to let any man harm you or ... touch you. Got that? The idea of it makes me sick.”

Chuck swallowed, knowing that Casey wasn’t talking solely about physical hurt. “It’s ... not what I want, either.”

“Nothing will happen. You have my word.” Casey leaned down, bracing his knuckles on the table, his blue eyes blazing at him. The other hand moved up to his cheek, made a pass over his flushed jaw, back and forth tenderly. “I was ... coming back for you,” he continued in a low, protective voice. “And the sorriest day of my life was knowing that Liam got to you first. I wish I could change everything that happened to you. But we will get out of here.” He stopped for a moment. “And those men will not.”

Chuck nodded dumbly, though he felt like he’d just ingested a ball of barbed wire. Casey would kill for him. No, more than that. Casey was going to kill for him. Sometime in the foreseeable future.

Suddenly, the kid’s appetite was lost. Yes, he wanted them ... hurt. Badly. But dead?

When Casey drew back, Chuck pushed his plate away, avoiding eye contact. There were times he still scared the crap out of him.

“Casey? I – maybe –”

“What,” Casey bit out, looking down at him. One word, but the message was clear. Nothing could dissuade his decision. On top of that, Chuck knew the little speech of fate and lost chances a minute ago took a stretch of all the other man had, so there’d be no more talk of their destiny for now.

“No – nothing.”

“I better take care of these dishes, then,” Casey said, and he brought the empty ones to the sink basin. As he turned his back to him, Chuck could almost see the internal mechanisms clicking into gear to put his usual shields in place.

“Can I help?”

“No.” Getting back to work, Casey used the hand pump to clean up the breakfast plates, which automatically drew Chuck’s attention to the muscles rippling across his shoulders, down his arms. Not for the obvious reasons – well, not completely – but the way he went to town with the pump told the kid how much anger he had accidently stirred up.

Chuck tilted his head at his lover’s back and narrowed his eyes. Would it always be the same with Casey, keeping everything buried deep, locked away? Because for the second time this morning, Chuck had the feeling he was keeping him in the dark.

Tentatively, the kid rose from his seat and came up behind him. As he approached, Casey didn’t move, even when Chuck slipped his arms around his waist. Solid, everything about him was brick and mortar, but the kid knew how to break it.

“Casey.” Chuck rested his cheek on the curve of his shoulder, a warm exhalation against his neck. God. Was it so crazy that even now he wanted him? His shirt smelled like a man, grassy fields and woods, slightly damp from the early morning heat and the intensity of his words.

Casey didn’t move. Maybe wanting Chuck to come to him this time.

Chuck lowered his hand down his back, over that incredible terrain of curved muscle, enjoying the hitch as he touched him, his body pressed against his lover’s. “I was still waiting. You should know that,” the kid said, the simple truth. “I would’ve kept waiting until you came back, too.”

“I know,” Casey said, making Chuck lift his head to catch a slight smile.

For his smug remark, Chuck decided a punishment was in order, so he bit down lightly on the bare flesh above his collar. And why not? It was right there, taunting him.

“Smartass,” Chuck murmured. He leaned forward and left a kiss in the spot where he had left tiny red marks. Then he gave it a little lick. Casey tasted like the morning sunshine and the lake water he had splashed on his skin to wash up -

Okay, that was as far as he could take it. Anymore flirting, and he could easily be talked into something he knew he wasn’t ready to do. Tabletop, meet regret.

So Chuck, stroking his hand over his back one more time, stepped away sheepishly for being somewhat naughty. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going to happen next?”

Casey turned, giving Chuck a view into the wicked expression he had caused. His blue eyes gleamed, as if he wondered if this was a game and what the kid would do next. “The thing I want to do,” Casey said, dragging a hand smoothly down Chuck’s stomach, “and what we have to do are vastly different items.”

The kid’s cheeks burned. “I ... do have some scruples, you know.” And oh, God, they could slip so easily right now. “I am still technically a hostage in this situation, aren’t I?”

Casey’s hand slowly fell back to his side. “Yes.”

“My point exactly.” Chuck folded his arms over his chest and felt himself begrudgingly putting a few feet between them. “So today? What are we doing?”

Casey wiped his hands on a cloth and walked over to the chair with his holster slung over the back. As he buckled it low on his hips, he glanced up at the kid. “Well, since I can’t talk you into my suggestion,” he said, eyes traveling over Chuck before grabbing his hat, “it looks like we’re heading up to Silver Plume. I think you have a job to do.”

Put that way, Chuck could only shake his head. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

-x-

Casey glared at the stubborn kid, hoping he would give up the seagull act. He had done nothing but fly in, squawk, and shit all over his plans.

“No. That’s my answer.” Chuck paused to look up at him from the ... whatever the hell he said it was, cocking an accusatory brow. “And for the hard of hearing among us – or simply hard headed – the answer is still no. Or non, nulla, nicht, or – what’s no in Gaelic?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Well, add that one, too,” Chuck argued and gestured at him with the wrench. “No way. Nuh-uh. Not happening.”

“Well, too fucking bad,” Casey told him, knowing damn well the kid would never let it go with that. “No choice, sport. It’s the only way.”

“So let me get this straight.” Chuck took a deep breath and lowered his head, peering out from under the substantial metal cylinder engine that lay on its side between them. It was raised from the floor, resting on iron wheels about four feet tall, meaning the kid had to perch himself on a tiny stool almost underneath it to fix it. “The very last thing in the world I’m willing to do is leave with my father – and that’s what you’re telling me I need to do?”

“Yep,” Casey said, unfastening his holster because when a room was over hundred degrees, the damn thing might as well be a noose.

Chuck straightened his shoulders and tried to look bad ass, even though his hair looked like a sweaty circus up there. “You know, more words would be helpful right about now,” he said dryly, and the kid refocused on a thingamajig and then held out a hand. “Locking pliers.”

Hell. Locking pliers. Casey, taking advantage of a time when he wasn’t needed, had sprawled out over a long bench on the other side of the steam engine. It was the first he had noticed he was closest to the tool crib. Great. Now he was relegated to servant status.

“Here,” he said, reaching in to swipe the pliers.

“Uh-huh. I see.” Instead of taking them, Chuck sat back on the stool. He smiled, pulling his attention down to Casey’s hand. “I meant the other locking pliers, John.”

“Egg head,” Casey said, giving him a discreet middle finger. “Which ones are they?”

“They’re the ones with the handle that – well.” An unhelpful hand motion ensued. “Uneven lengths, with the little – gah. I’ll get it.”

“Yeah, why don’t you just run along and do that, twerp.” No one told him how goddamn hot this was going to be. The pump room was only about ten by twenty, and most of the space was taken up by the steam engine. And two sweaty bodies. Shit, that too.

“See this? Locking pliers.”

Casey assumed something was being waved in his face, but he had conveniently closed his eyes. “Who knew these things had so many fucking parts,” he muttered. “Like a dog puked up a damn jigsaw puzzle.”

Chuck shook his head and kept tinkering with a rod. It connected a piston to a cross head, he had said, but Casey might’ve tuned him out after that.

Still, he knew Chuck was some kind of genius whiz kid, but even Casey was silently floored by how quickly he had examined the steam pump, found the slide valve frozen, and gently but persistently coaxed the enormous engine to life. The dragon, he called it. Casey gave him a look to convey how dorky that sounded, but he went with it if it meant getting out of there any faster.

While Chuck worked, Casey had at first leaned over and feigned interest for a few minutes, though moisture dribbled under his shirt and his head felt on fire. That was the downside of getting it operational, because as soon as Chuck did, billows flapping, steam pouring out of the beast, the temperature in the stuffy coal building zoomed. A machine like this had to be the same the devil kept stoked in hell, but Casey figured he’d know soon enough.

“Done?”

Chuck’s hand froze in the act of adjusting the thin metal tube that led to a device he called the flywheel. “There is a thing called patience, you know. Engineering isn’t a science of -”

“You didn’t just stop right then. Because it looked like your hands stopped moving.”

“Mechanical power isn’t your thing, is it?”

“Only if bullets come out the other end, muffin.” Casey grunted and unbuttoned his shirt. “Let’s try to talk and work at the same time before I sweat off something I might need later, eh.”

“I doubt that.” Chuck gave him a look, petulantly twisting the wrench. “Very much.”

Casey smiled because the sulky look had drawn the kid’s eyes down, and he liked to think it wasn’t the waft of steam that made his neck redden.

It was nothing he’d admit to, but Casey enjoyed it when Chuck gave him the full body perusal. Getting Chuck out of his own head at times and really thinking was almost a contact sport.

“God help the Cornish,” Casey said, glancing around. “Who could work in a place like this?” He took hold of his shirt and shrugged it off both shoulders. He was no cooler, but at least the fabric was no longer glued to his skin. “Poor bastards.”

Chuck nodded, concentrating on fitting a metal panel back in place. “Can you pass me the pliers? The regular ones.” The kid shot a quizzical look at him, obviously to gauge Casey’s comprehension. “They’re the long pointy ones with the little –?” He began to motion by separating two fingers like scissors. “And the handle that has the -”

“I know what the hell they are,” Casey replied. He hastily searched the tray, made a guess, and handed them over.

Chuck took them without looking. “These things are really temperamental,” he said, signaling with the pliers. “If you don’t keep pistons lubricated, they’ll seize up every time. Whoever is the superintendent here doesn’t really understand the system.”

“Don’t be offended, genius, but I hope you’re not going to lecture me on shit that goes wrong.”

Chuck hesitated for just a second, eyes roaming down Casey’s bare chest before he slid over to adjust the other side of the panel. On second thought, something clicked under that fluffy mop and he began to unbutton his own shirt. “I would offer more advice to aforementioned incompetent superintendent – except for the whole ‘being forced against my will’ thing.”

“Good thinking,” Casey said. He was referring to Chuck letting go of his modesty and finally going shirtless in this hell hole, but the kid could think whatever he wanted. Taking in the glistening dew on his bare shoulders and neck gave him something interesting to do, at least.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Never mind me. Is that the last of it so we can get out of here?”

“Uh, no. Sorry. Screwdriver?” Chuck reached under the cylinder and took the tool from Casey’s hand. “Can we get back to this grand plan of yours?”

“Have you gotten it through your obstinate head that you’re leaving with your father?”

“Did you need me to repeat my answer?” Chuck tensed further and scowled, but he didn’t add on to it.

Since the raised metal cylinder separated them, Casey had to spread out a long leg to nudge the kid’s boot with his foot. “What happened to that ‘my life is in your hands’ act you seem to have perfected this morning?”

Chuck made a frustrated sound and turned the screwdriver without looking up. “Okay, okay, you made your point. I told you I would listen, and now you think I’m acting like a brat. I get it.”

“You forgot spoiled and irritating.”

Chuck bit down on his bottom lip and refocused. “Though, my point still stands.” He then swallowed, and it was difficult not to focus on the way his neck bobbed, or the sweat on his slick chest. “I’m formally protesting any plan that includes me going back to Boston.”

“I didn’t say you were going back to Boston, did I?”

“I’m pretty sure I just heard you say something about me leaving with my father,” Chuck shook his head no as he scooped up a screw he had dropped. “Which isn’t going to happen.”

“Which means you’re not listening.” Pausing to take the cap from the canteen, Casey looked over at him, not focusing on that dribble of wetness now trailing down his flat stomach. “I didn’t say you were going home.”

Evidently the obvious solution wasn’t coming to Chuck, because just as he took the canteen from Casey, his dark eyes filled with confusion. “Haven’t I been tortured enough? What are you getting at?”

“Lots of places for a kid like you to get lost between here and Boston, don’t you think?”

Chuck stared at him for a full ten seconds, but Casey could see his brain was already connecting the dots. He seemed to forget he was thirsty. “I have to give him the slip. Is that it?” he asked, and his voice lowered, forcing Casey to strain to hear him over the high pressure steam escaping like a dragon’s fury. “I have to ... run again.”

“I didn’t think that part of the plan would bother you.” Casey leaned back on the bench and sprawled out again, one knee bent, hands tucked behind his head. “If you knew that ... I’m going to catch up to you.”

Casey tipped his chin to catch his body language. He liked what he saw, and it was hard not to get up and touch him, wipe off the path of sweat on his cheek or kiss him when relief crossed his face.

“I’m listening,” the kid said, wary, “but if the point is for us to be together -”

“Isn’t it?”

“Of course it is,” Chuck replied in a hurry. One of Casey’s favorite things was that shy crooked smile, and the kid chose that second to use it to the full effect. “That’s what I want. I do.” When he turned his attention to the panel, the smile faded some. “But I still don’t know why we can’t just get up and go now.”

“Liam,” Casey replied. He propped himself up on his elbows, because he had to look at the younger man to ensure he understood. “The hand-off for the land deal has to a happen, kid. And no matter how much you try to ignore it, you’re the bargaining chip.”

“Geez, thanks.”

“Without you, Liam can’t make the deal with dear old dad.”

Chuck gave him an uneasy look. “So?”

“If Liam can’t make the deal, he will spend the rest of his life hunting us down.” Casey inclined his head at him, watching for the inevitable reaction. “Or more specifically, you.”

“Me?” Chuck lifted the canteen and took a long swig. A spurt of nerves made his knee begin to jiggle. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why not ... well, you?”

“If we leave together, kid, he’s going to know that I ... wanted to be with you. And if his deal with UP falls through, he’ll come after me.” He felt like the kid didn’t quite get it, so he poked him gently with his foot and met Chuck’s startled eyes. “By getting to you.”

Chuck deliberately turned back to his task, but the screwdriver slipped from his clammy hands one more time. He had to get down on his knees under the cylinder to retrieve it. “And if I ... leave with my dad?”

“Liam gets his land deal, probably fucks UP in the ass for all he can – and doesn’t give a shit what happens to you or your father after that.”

“Sounds slightly less ominous,” Chuck agreed, wetting his throat. Grabbing the screwdriver, he sat back down on the short stool and fit the screw in place. “But how am I going to give them the slip?”

Before he answered, Casey relaxed by putting his saddle pack behind his shoulders, and he let one leg drape over the side of the bench. There was nothing he could do to help at the moment, so why not stretch out and be comfortable? At least the kid was starting to listen.

“The train route will take you back through St. Louis,” Casey said, adjusting the lumpy leather bag to raise his head a bit more, which let him keep watching Chuck as he worked. His lean, muscular body, half bare, was much more stimulating to study than drive rods and pistons. Damn ... wonder if he could convince the kid to take a look at his drive rod next.

“St. Louis?” Chuck asked, head down as he tightened a screw. “Oh, by the way, you’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“That smirk-y thing with your lips? What are you thinking about, anyway?”

Casey wiped it away and toed off his boots. They landed with two resounding plunks at the end of the bench. “Try to pay attention, will you?”

“Fine. My bad. Continue.”

“It’s a big city,” Casey rumbled, his eyes lingering on those long thighs and slim calves. “Lots of crowds. Even someone like you can get lost.”

“I hope you mean tall and not –”

“A nerdy city boy?” When Chuck gave him a hurt look, Casey returned it with a slow smile to let the kid know he was teasing. Or that he wasn’t, and that he liked him that way. “Your father won’t be alone. I’m sure he’ll have his lawyers and advisers with him. Maybe even someone to watch over you for the trip home.”

“I’m beginning to hate this plan,” Chuck said, wiping his hands down his jeans. “How am I supposed to get away?”

“Well, for starters, when you see your father, you’re going to be daddy’s little Prodigal Son.” He squinted, looking for any telltale signs that the kid couldn’t do it. “You’ll be repentant. Docile as a lamb. That way, they’ll relax around you. The last thing they’ll think is that you plan on slipping away.”

Chuck looked up from the curved panel that was refusing to fall into place and rubbed his eyes, a brief grimace of pain crossing his face. “Yes ... okay, yes, I can do it. But where am I going to go? They’ll check every hotel ....” He stopped to take a drink and then wiped his chin, frowning at the thought. “I don’t want to explain right now ... but they’re desperate. As soon as I disappear, they’ll check every nook and cranny of that city to find me.”

Such confessions made Casey sit up some. He slanted his head appraisingly, taking in every inch of a disheveled-haired skinny kid on a tiny stool, wondering why in the hell they would go to such great lengths to retrieve a man who obviously didn’t want to be found. Eventually, and sooner than he liked, Casey was going to make him tell the story. Why he refused to go back. Why he was afraid.

But for now, well, here comes the shit fit, because there was no way he would like this part of the blueprint.

“You won’t be at a hotel,” Casey replied, his voice dripping with a no big deal tone. “You’ll be at a brothel.”

At the final word in that sentence, Chuck’s head ricocheted up. A pair of pliers landed somewhere under the cylinder with a dull thud, but he was too busy gaping at Casey to bother with them. “Um, excuse me,” the kid faltered, his eyes wide, “but I must be mistaken, because what I thought I just heard was brothel.”

“You prefer I call it a whorehouse?” Casey chuckled at the kid’s horrified expression. “Oh, I almost forgot your blueblood upbringing. Let me translate, kid. House of Ill Repute work for you?”

“I know what it is.” Chuck sputtered another second or two before taking a swig and handing him the canteen. “I just can’t figure out why on earth you’re suggesting it. I would never go into a -!”

“Exactly my point, tiger,” Casey interrupted, sitting up to take the water jug. “They’ll never know to look for you there.”

Chuck’s jaw worked up and down a few times, until he finally gave up and put his elbows on his knees. “A brothel,” and he let out a heavy breath. “So what am I supposed to do? Wander into the red light district and just knock on the door? ‘Hey, can I hide out here? Oh, and I’m not interested in being a customer’ so you can put away your ... things? They’ll laugh me out the door! Or – or worse.”

“Not Sabine,” Casey said, raising his voice to be heard over the contraption. He took a drink and examined the kid as he twisted the cap back on. “She’s going to put up with you for a few days.”

“Who?”

“Sabine. I told you about her ... when we were at the farm. I’m sure you remember the story?”

“Uh – no?”

“The night in the tub?”

“Oh.” His blush answered loudly for him. Looking away, the kid got busy with the pliers again and went on cautiously, “The Madame? Yes ... I remember.”

“Like I told you, she owes me ... a few favors. You’ll stay with her – under wraps, until I get to St. Louis.”

Casey had hoped to leave it at that, but the slow dawning on Chuck’s face said otherwise. It seemed that giving a very passable blow job that night was obviously not the only part of the evening he at once remembered.

Casey sighed an oh shit sigh and waited. It didn’t take long.

“Whoa. Just a damn minute.” Chuck sat up straighter. “Sagebrush Ranch. The one with the ... man who looks like me? No way. Nuh-uh. I’m not coming face to face with a ... who’s done ... things with you.”

Casey prolonged Chuck’s discomfort by taking his time to stretch out on the low bench again. In truth, he couldn’t help tipping his head back and lengthening his torso when the kid’s eyes had traveled over him. Chuck appeared ruffled.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, brown eyes,” Casey said, his mouth twitching. “Don’t worry. He’s been gone a long time.”

“Gone?” Chuck avoided his eyes and pushed a hand through his hair, drenched curls standing up in waves. “I wasn’t jealous. I ... it would just be uncomfortable, okay?”

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” Casey’s voice held an amused smugness. “Hate to have to share me?”

Chuck looked up from fitting a rod in place and stuck out his tongue. Casey could think of a few other places he could put that tongue, however, he decided to let it go for now. “How would I find it? I assume there aren’t, oh I don’t know, maps or pamphlets for these ... types of establishments in town?”

Casey raised his head to just give him an ‘are you serious’ look and chuckled to himself. “How you did not get your ass kicked by a bully every day of your life is a miracle, kid.”

“Can you please just answer the question?”

“Let me spell it out,” Casey said, his long sprawl shifting because the bench was hard as nails. “Get off the train. Down the street, to the east, there’s a saloon called the Prairie Dew.”

“Sounds nice, I guess.”

“Only if you like cards, tramps, and whiskey that will burn the inner lining of your gut.”

“Or maybe not,” Chuck replied promptly. He reached over to pick up his shirt, using it as a towel to mop his neck. “Why in the world would you have me go to a place like that?”

“Same reason as before. It’s the last joint where they would expect to find you.”

“So what do I do once I get there?”

“Go to the bartender and ask for directions to Sabine’s. That’s all you have to say. I’m damn sure he’ll know of it.” Casey had to grin at his perplexed expression. “Every bartender in town can tell you where to get laid.”

“That’s it? He’ll tell me? Just that easy?”

“Well,” Casey began, figuring he should be honest, just to prepare him. “I’m sure he’ll take one look at your innocent lamb face, and maybe fill your ears with some encouraging advice – but yeah, that’s it. Prairie Dew may be a hell hole, but the proprietor can be discreet. He’ll give you directions - and you follow them to a T.”

“I’m not an idiot, you know. I can follow directions.”

“I’ll give you that much,” Casey mumbled. “You are trainable.”

Chuck rolled his eyes but he got moving again. “Why can’t you just tell me now – and avoid the humiliation?”

“It’s not marked very well. You’ll never find it,” Casey explained, and he pointed his wistful smile up at the ceiling. “It’s not really a ranch. Tell me you did figure that out, eh, pancake?”

“I get it, okay?” Chuck actually looked wounded. “So how does she know I’m going to show up on her doorstep?”

“She doesn’t.” Casey held up a hand at the kid’s bewildered look. “I told you. I helped her out a few times. She owes me a favor or two. When she finds out who you are and who sent you, you’ll be fine.”

“Great,” Chuck muttered. “But how about this: why in the world would she believe me?”

Granted, that could be problematic. Sabine was, as a rule, distrustful, an unfortunate yet wise characteristic of ladies in her trade.

“I’m going to give you a letter, but I can’t do that until they’re ready to pass you off to your father. We’d have to hang up our fiddles if someone finds it on you before then.”

“If I make it that far.”

“You will.” Casey’s voice got a bit throaty, so he cleared it. “I’ll make sure of it, kid.”

Chuck huffed, not looking as confident as Casey wanted him to be. “All right, another thing perhaps you haven’t considered. Let’s say I manage to get the letter to her. Will she recognize your handwriting? Or will she think I’m a fake or a thief – and call the sheriff?”

Casey frowned at him. The interrogation made him momentarily long for the small swath of fabric he had used as Chuck’s gag up until yesterday. Sure it pissed off the kid, but it had been mighty handy to be able to shut him up at will.

“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you, sunshine?”

“Can you blame me?”

“Well, if you have to know, of course, she’ll recognize my writing.” Casey turned away and grabbed Chuck’s shirt off the ground, used it to wipe the sweat from his neck.

Eh. Just another reason he should’ve fucked him this morning, because he wouldn’t be thinking up all these pesky details. A high hard one had a tendency to work out some of that tension.

“Is that mine?” Chuck asked, eyeing the shirt.

Yeah, tension. “Didn’t you just do that? No sense using both of our shirts for a mop.”

Chuck squinted at the logic. “Okay, so what if she doesn’t recognize your handwriting, and still thinks I’m a fake? Hmm? Did you think of that, Mr. ‘Shut up and Listen’?”

Casey tossed his shirt back at him and made a noise that was somewhere between boredom and ye of little faith. He prudently schooled his expression to hide the fact that his brain was hurriedly sifting for ideas.

“Why does she owe you a favor, anyway?” Chuck went on. “It doesn’t have anything to do with – that man?”

“You really are jealous,” Casey observed, a smirk becoming more prominent. He decided to let him off the hook, however. “Nothing to do with him. I ... helped persuade a competitor to leave her business alone.”

“Did this persuasion involve, perhaps, guns?”

It did. The whole scenario and friendship started oddly, when she invited him down to the kitchen one morning – a thing she never did – to share a pot of -

“White chrysanthemums,” he said, just as Chuck opened his mouth. “You’re going to tell her that.”

“What?” Chuck’s brows scrunched. “Are you sure?”

It surprised him, but he was sure. Even now, after years, he could still remember the delicate scent of the flowers she boiled to make tea. They grew in a small patch behind the tall fence that hid Sagebrush from the road.

“She’ll know.”

“White – Oh, God,” Chuck mumbled with absolutely no confidence whatsoever. “St. Louis. The saloon. Becoming a fugitive? It’s all, well, sort of complicated, isn’t it?”

Casey merely shrugged. “Or you can just go home with your dad?”

“I ....” Chuck gritted his teeth and buried his forehead in his hands. “Annnnd escaping it is, I guess.”

“Good boy,” Casey answered a little low, stretching out a leg to knock the kid’s boot. When Chuck looked up with a queasy expression, Casey then rubbed a bare foot over his tight calf, up and down a few times; soothing and easy. “Gonna be okay,” he assured him.

The kid fell silent as he fussed with the screwdriver in his fingers. When Casey thought that was the end of it, Chuck caught Casey’s foot, but instead of pushing it away, he held on, gently stroking the bottom. “I know ... I’ll be okay. But I have one last question for you.”

The feel of Chuck’s long sure fingers along the bottom of his foot was immediately heavenly. A foot massage sounded damn good right about now, so Casey wiggled his toes, indicating the kid should continue.

Chuck took the hint, skimming lightly up and down, and despite the blazing heat, pleasure settled in a sliver at the base of Casey’s spine, traveling down. The distraction helped to counterbalance what his intuition had already told him. He was going to hate this last question.

“Yeah?” Casey asked.

Chuck turned a pair of irresistible brown eyes on him. “How do you get away?”

It was only a matter of time for him to ask, and now that he had, Casey became slightly peeved at himself for not coming up with a better way to say it. But it was too late to fix it now.

“There’s only one way for me to get away from Liam, kid.”

“I already don’t like it.” Without encouragement, Chuck continued tracing the top of his toes. One by one, he drew a line over them with a light caress, bringing his other hand in play along his calf. “Are you going to tell me, or do I torture you?”

Casey spread out his toes; the touch sent a ripple up his leg. Might as well let him know how good it feels. He relaxed his foot and let him do it, enjoying the way Chuck used the pad of his thumb along the graceful curve of his arch.

“If this is torture kid,” Casey murmured, “I’m all for it.”

“You are spoiled, you know that?” Chuck emphasized his point by tickling the base of a few toes.

“Guess I’ve been promoted up from being your minion, eh? Oh ....”

Chuck flashed a small smile and curled his fingers over the top of his foot, pulling on a few toes playfully. “You have very long toes, mister. Especially the second one – it’s longer than the big toe.” His nose wrinkled adorably, not that Casey would tell him so. “Huh. I wonder what that means.”

“Yeah?” Casey took his time running his other foot along the kid’s thigh. “You already know what it means, goddess.”

“Arrogant ass.” Chuck delivered it with that beautiful grin, using only the tips of his fingers to draw unbearably light circles over the ball of his foot. His lashes swept down as he kept watching what he was doing, but eventually the kid tilted his head up to him. “But you’re not getting out of it that easily. Only one way?”

Just to see what he would do, Casey moved his foot over the top of his jeans, grazing the last line of ribs before drifting down to his flat stomach. It pleased him that Chuck didn’t pull back, instead hitched a breath for him, quivered at the touch of Casey’s flesh rubbing on his bare skin. Like that?

But now he was going to have to go and ruin it by telling him.

“Only one way to get him not to chase me,” Casey said after a silence, daring to brush his foot a little lower, in need of a diversion. “The only choice is dying.”

-x- End Chapter Seven Sins Fell Angels-x-


	8. Chapter Eight

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Eight

-x-

Just to see what he would do, Casey moved his foot over the top of his jeans, grazing the last line of ribs before drifting down to his flat stomach. It pleased him that Chuck didn’t pull back, instead hitched a breath for him, quivered at the touch of Casey’s flesh rubbing on his bare skin. Like that?

But now he was going to have to go and ruin it by telling him.

“Only one way to get him not to chase me,” Casey said after a silence, daring to brush his foot a little lower, in need of a diversion. “The only choice is dying.”

-x-

Chuck’s mouth dropped open. “Dy - are you insane?”

“Easy, princess. I’m only –”

“That’s not a choice! That’s, de facto, a non-choice!” Chuck sprung up from the miniscule stool, almost knocked his head on one of the pipes, and more importantly, interrupted a hell of a foot massage. “I can’t - you did not just suggest -”

“God, I knew you would do this,” Casey muttered. Reaching out with one leg, he tried to hook an ankle around Chuck’s knee to bring him back down, but the kid had already started pacing alongside the engine. Figures he’d go for the girly reaction.

“This plan of yours, Casey?” Chuck said, and his hand was shaking as he pushed it through his hair, “Going back with my father? Shacking up in a ... brothel? I’m -”

“What you were doing there was just fine,” Casey cut in, ignoring the hissy fit. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“- and then hiding from the authorities until you ‘catch up to me’?” A hand flailed. “I could almost live with all of that, but now -”

“Hey. You did agree to it, pancake.”

“But dying is out of the question!” Chuck’s face set mutinously. “Here’s one for you: I won’t allow it.”

Casey looked up at the kid and a half-laugh escaped him. “You won’t, huh? Well, look at the head hog at the trough. Why don’t you tell me, sheriff, how you plan on outsmarting Liam? Since you’ve thought this through?”

Chuck’s stubbornness deepened to a scowl. “You’ve made your point, okay? But that doesn’t mean I’m going along with this.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I don’t have to do anything. I can walk away any time.”

Casey concluded that now wasn’t the time to point out the obvious. “Not explaining anything to you, kid, until you sit down.” It was a strategic maneuver, but if he had any hope of Chuck actually listening, he’d have to do it eye to eye and not craning to look up at him. To his point, Casey toed the stool towards his legs and nodded. “Sit.”

“God, when I think things can’t get crazier ....” At least he had stopped pacing, and after a few more seconds of twisting his right thumb with his left hand, he plopped down on the stool across from Casey. “Explain,” he said.

The seating arrangement worked. It was a chance for Casey to put his foot back where it was, except it landed in a spot between Chuck’s knees, his heel on the stool. “Keep going.” Casey’s voice got throaty, and he pressed his foot inward an inch or two, toes scrubbed lightly over denim. “I liked it. Always said you have good hands.”

Chuck looked down, leery, obviously gauging the proximity of his toes to the buttons of his jeans. “Only – only if you talk,” and he began smoothing his fingers over him again, heel to the ball of his foot. “Because you dying for this is not an option.”

As Casey lay on his back, a palm resting on his abdomen, he lifted his head to eye him for a moment or two. Odd, but he liked the ire he had raised. He couldn’t think of the last time someone had stood in his corner. Never came to mind.

“Liam won’t let me get out of Black Rock alive. I’m too much a part of it now.” Casey stretched his foot a bit more in reaction to a tickling touch, and accidently - or maybe purposefully - nudged his inner thigh. “It didn’t start out that way. Truth is, I ... was a lot like you, kid. Half prisoner, but I was half beholden to him, too.”

“Will I ever find out why?”

“Not now.” Hell, if he had his way, not ever.

“Then can we get back to you not dying?” Chuck’s thumbs pressed into his arch, gently but firmly, willing to hear him though his eyes were obstinate as hell. “Because I won’t let it happen.”

“You won’t, huh?” Casey snorted softly and straightened his foot enough to skim his toes over the front of his jeans. The millisecond before the kid backed up, Casey saw him bite down on his lip. Like that, kid? “The answer is, sweet cheeks, to them ... I’ll be dead.”

Chuck’s hand stilled. “I don’t get it.”

“Simple, really,” Casey said, drawing out the pause. “I’m going to have to fake my own death.”

“Hang on. What do you mean? Or better yet, how, exactly?”

Great. Now the kid was diverted and needed another reminder. Hinting, Casey wiggled his toes to let him know he had permission to keep those dexterous hands busy. “The real question is, do you trust me, brown eyes?”

Chuck’s eyebrows went up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Giving him an encouraging small swipe along the inner thigh, Casey waited until he felt a soft graze. “Yeah ... I didn’t know about this little talent you had ....”

“Can you be serious? And don’t try to change the subject, okay? Because I swear we were just talking about your death!”

“Fake death, kid. Get it right. And keep going ....”

Chuck glanced down at his foot, nestled between his inner thighs and still awfully close to his crotch. “Spoiled,” he said, but his grip curled in over his toes, massaging the ball of his foot. “There. Now, I need to know some things. First – and this is only speculatively- if I were to allow this to happen -”

“Allow? You, eh?”

“Yes, allow. So how would you do it?”

“You have to narrow down the possibilities – if you want to live.” Casey gave a shrug. “Seems like a scientific mind would’ve already figured it out.”

“I guess ... I’ve never given it much thought.”

“Kid, you are good,” he felt the need to point out. “Right there ... mm.”

“You do know that I’ll stop if you don’t talk?”

Casey squinted over at him and drew his foot in, exceedingly close to what he predicted Chuck had pegged as the Forbidden Zone. “There can’t be a body to find,” he said casually, sucking in air through his teeth when Chuck went from top to bottom. “I’ve narrowed it down to drowning.”

“What?” Chuck straightened. “Just like that – drowning?” With the sweat glistening on his cheeks, the kid hooked his other hand on Casey’s calf, clinching his fingers down over his jeans and digging into muscle. “No, no, no. That’s not an option -”

“Do you trust me, Chuck?” Casey asked. As he watched his face, Casey then lengthened his leg, his toes running over Chuck’s inner thigh, inching in ... and then, what the hell, why not? Moving up, his foot passed over his cock before he changed direction to explore his lower abdomen. “Is this ... still what you want?”

“You – ah - you know what I mean.” Chuck licked his lips, cringing when he realized his voice had wobbled. “And I know what you’re doing.” It was too late, but the hold on his leg strengthened to try and keep him where he was. “But you have to listen to me. As the potential ... boyfriend in this scenario, and the person you’re supposed to be with when ... all of this is over, I can’t let you do this.” He sat up taller on the absurdly short stool, trying to look badass. “I’m afraid the answer is no. You’re just going to have to come up with something else.”

“’Let me’?” Casey bit down on a smirk and easily twisted his ankle free. Needing to show appreciation for Chuck’s concern but also to tell the kid tough shit, he demonstrated his point by sliding his toes up and in again, bringing them into play a mere inch from his cock. “You’re on the prod for a fight, aren’t ya, kid?”

“Ca – hey –”

That time, maybe his toe did take a little detour, crossing over the hard bulge before the kid could shift his ass back again. “Kind of cute when you get fired up, though.”

Chuck stiffened. “You’re not taking me seriously!”

“What tells you that?” Casey grinned, rubbing over his stiff cock, enjoying the kid’s lips parting, eyes momentarily losing focus. Yeah? You’d like some, wouldn’t ya?

“Ah ... okay, that’s it.” Finding a bit of composure, Chuck bolted upright at the next pass and a hand dug in, moved his foot back for him. “I’ll say it again, since you seemed ... distracted. You have to think of something else.”

“Jump off a cliff?”

Chuck’s nose wrinkled. “How – how in the world would you fake that?”

“Well, you might have a point, kid,” Casey said, lightly mocking him by playing along. “Get hit by a train?”

“Oh, my God.” Chuck gaped. “Are you insane?”

“But as the potential boyfriend in this scenario,” Casey continued like it was nothing, “it would be your job to come by with a dustpan and clean up the pieces. A bit messy, I’d say. Especially with your tendency to faint at the sight of blood.”

“It was only the one time,” Chuck argued lamely, and puffed out his cheeks in exasperation. “Okay, no trains.”

“So that leaves what, city boy?”

“I – how would I know? You’re asking me to step into the frankly very frightening place between your ears.” Chuck paused to let his gaze travel over him. “Do you really think I lay awake at night thinking about these things?”

“Hell, I hope not,” Casey said, and despite the hold on his leg, he shifted and slowly dragged the bottom of his foot over to the nice place it had settled on a minute ago. Relax, kid. His heel moved back and forth, scrubbing over the firm rounded swelling, the curve of his cock feeling so damn good.

“John ... maybe you shouldn’t ....” the kid said, and bit down on his lips when he did it anyway.

As Casey felt him rise, it inspired a slightly rougher pressure. “You’re ready to listen to me now, aren’t you, kid?”

Chuck opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it closed just as Casey changed his movements. And maybe giving in to a hungry ache, Chuck let him this time. “Oh ... so not fair,” the kid murmured at the friction. It sounded like encouragement, so Casey slid his heel down his length again.

“You do like that?”

To answer, Chuck gasped and ended his protest by loosening the grip on Casey’s leg. “Jesus, Casey ....”

“Good. I do have your attention.” And he intended to keep it. Too hot to exercise control, Casey bumped one of Chuck’s knees out the way, just kept kneading that area. “There won’t be a body that will ever be found,” he said, low-voiced. “No one will be the wiser.”

“Casey, your – foot -”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” God, it did too. Even if Chuck seemed at once mortified yet wholly turned on by it. It was obvious what he was doing to him, but there was nothing wrong with a little well-placed coaxing, Casey figured.

“You – you can’t just use your foot to get whatever you want, you know,” Chuck mumbled.

“Yeah, other parts of me seem to work pretty damn well, too.”

“Can we stay focused for a minute? Please?”

“Mm.” Casey had his full attention now. Chuck’s trembling could be felt through his bare heel, and the kid reflexively tightened, not moving while Casey toed the nice bar of iron beneath his jeans. “Wanted to feel that for a while ...” Even the voice in his head was husky when it added, Mine.

“Ah ... what else?” Chuck managed, swallowed against his touch.

Casey let out a breath, sweeping his foot in tiny circles. “When Liam finds all the money drained from his accounts - nothing left but a few dimes if I’m feeling charitable - he’s going to be ready to kill.”

“Kill? Wait - what money?”

“And the way I’ll leave it, well, he’ll think those two little morons had something to do with it.” After that confession, Casey rounded his foot to cup his lover’s erection, doing his best to fondle him through the tight jeans. “It won’t be me ... because I’ll be dead.”

“Oh. You have to stop.” Chuck lowered his gaze, a light dew of perspiration running down his cheek. “Someone ... will have to see it. Witnesses. How are you going to do it?”

“I found the place.” Damn. There. “A tight bend in the river. Lots of rapids over the rocks.” He didn’t let up, reveling in the way Chuck’s stomach hitched, like a quiver under water. “Yeah, that’ll be it.”

“Casey, that’s ... too dangerous,” Chuck contended and his hand landed on Casey’s thigh, lying on the tense line of muscle. “We are back to me not letting you do this.”

“I thought you said you studied science. Engineering? Or was that just another story of yours?”

Chuck’s eyes narrowed. Without realizing it, the accusation made him release Casey’s leg, so it took no effort at all to resume the not-so-subtle scrapes on the front of his jeans. “You are still listening to me, aren’t you, kid?” he asked, and gave him a long, easy reminder on why he should.

“John ... you ... can’t.” He wet his lips, then ran his hands further up his leg. “Y-yes.”

“Air pockets can be trapped under water, can’t they?”

“I ... don’t like where this is going.”

“This?” Casey gave him a stroke, skimming over the growing mound beneath the buttons. Impressive, kid.

Chuck closed his eyes, his jaw flexing. “You ... are a son of a bitch for that.”

“Yeah?” Casey made a ‘hmm’ noise, and since the kid was still able to talk straight, his toe followed the stiff outline for him one more time. “So you approve of my idea?”

His dark eyes shadowed. “It scares the hell out of me, actually.”

“But it’s doable.” A little more pressure ... over the bulge, and the kid’s fingers convulsed into a fist. “Is that right?”

“I – yes.” Chuck broke it off there, and Casey could practically see his brain re-engage. “Aristotle’s diving bell. Anything concave would work. Trapped air rises to the top of a chamber.”

“Mm. Lucky me to find such a smart boy, eh?” And good job thinking with that hard-on, too. Casey rewarded his insight with a slow foot drag over something else trapped that was rising.

“Casey ....” Chuck sunk his teeth into his bottom lip; his chocolate eyes shifted down at the foot rubbing him, and then back up. He looked as if he had forgotten to breathe, but Casey figured he could still listen.

“I never studied Aristotle,” Casey said, “but I once saw a Pullman car that fell off the trestle and landed in a river.”

“That’s ... horrible.” With the conversation turning deadly serious, Chuck tried to make a grab for his foot, but Casey got around him. He took that as license to keep going. Up, back down over fabric that felt stretched and burning, and he liked the way the kid immediately balled up his hands again, knowing he couldn’t move it. Or want to. Either way, it didn’t dissatisfy Casey to see the delicious wrestling on his face before he relinquished control. “This ... this is a very bad idea ...”

“Personally, kid,” – swish – “I think it’s my best idea since I left your farm. Got you to listen, didn’t I?”

I – oh.” Chuck almost jerked away, but pleasure beat out shyness this time. “The Pullman .... Wh-why are you bringing this up?”

Casey grinned. “They survived, that’s why. There was enough air in the car and the river wasn’t too deep in that spot.”

“Thank God.” Chuck let out a shaky breath. Casey wasn’t sure if it was relief or the big toe tracing his crown under his jeans. “So ... you’ll do something similar,” Chuck said, tentative. “And I have to say it again. I really hate this idea.”

“No worries, kid. I won’t be borrowing a train car. I picked out something smaller that can ride the current with me.”

“You’ve ... really thought about this. As if you’re serious?”

Maybe the kid hadn’t been paying attention after all.

“It’s already planned. Done deal.” The rubbing with his foot was too slow to take the kid any further, but the whole act was just enough to singe a vision into his brain. Now that it was planted there, Casey gave him just one more to remember him and put his foot on the floor. “Jesus. Unbearable. Think I just sweated off my left nut sack,” he muttered. “Are you done here?”

“What? Oh.” Chuck blinked at him and then glanced down at the place Casey’s foot had vacated. “Still have quite the way with words, I see.” Embarrassed by how far that went, he scooted back on the stool and quickly began trying to fit the last pesky panel onto the side. “Uh, almost – I only have to – hey, that worked.”

Casey watched him drop a pair of pliers a little loudly, and much to his interest, the kid turned a bit pink. You got a problem now, don’t you, brown eyes? A pretty hard on ... and you have no clue what you’re gonna do about that, do you?

Forgot that I can take care of you?

Maybe later tonight, you’ll let me handle your problems.

“I’m ... done. It’s fixed.” Chuck stood up and worked the kink out of his shoulder, lines of dirt and perspiration stuck to his chest and lean stomach. “I’m shutting off the air supply ... the valves.”

He was busy for a few minutes, so Casey helped by putting the tools back in the crib. When he finished, he turned around to see the kid was checking him out, but not in the way he preferred. More in the way that signaled he was getting ready to talk.

“What?” Casey asked.

Chuck handed over the canteen and picked up his shirt, flapped it a few times as if that would do any good. “I didn’t do this to help him,” he said solemnly. “I’m helping you.”

“Us,” Casey corrected softly. “Don’t forget that, kid.” He slipped his own shirt back on, leaving it unbuttoned. “Now let’s get the hell out here.”

-x-

As Casey led them down the trail along the water’s edge, the lodge peeking between the pines, he noticed that it had become quiet back there. The silence was broken only by the tromping in the dirt of Bart and Vic’s hooves, or a rabbit they had scared up from a fallen log, scattering through the brush.

Casey knew that quiet time allowed Chuck’s brain more time to go off the rails. By now, the kid would already have to be playing through the ten dozen ways this could go wrong. Casey’s death had to be one of the things towards the top of the Very Scary Inventory. Not being able to leave his father when he got to St. Louis was another. The list went on.

“You okay back there?” Casey asked, half turning in the saddle when they came to the grassy edge of the lodge’s property. “Or do I need to be worried about another gun to my head?”

It was a joke. No laughter, though.

Casey pulled back on the reins as Vic reached a stand of trees next to the long porch. When he climbed down and threw his saddle pack over his shoulder, he looked up at Chuck and nowhere else, suddenly so pissed at himself he could barely speak.

“Christ,” he said to himself, because since when did John Casey miss the obvious signs? Now he had gone and pushed a man who had been beaten and starved up the side of a mountain and put him to work in a hundred degree coal bin. He hadn’t complained either, and that was just like Chuck, sticking his fist in his chest and giving it a little twist.

“Is there ... something wrong?” Chuck asked, holding tight to the saddle horn.

“Being up there today didn’t do you any good, sport,” Casey said. A few quick strides brought him to side of the horse, and he ran his hand soothingly down the sweating chestnut neck, eyeing Chuck’s ghost-white face. “You look like you’ve been taking a licking with bricks.”

“I’m fine,” Chuck mumbled, and he ducked his head and swung a leg behind him.

And promptly landed on his hands and knees in the grass.

“Fine, huh?” Casey, getting down on his haunches next to him, slid a hand around one of his biceps. “Just had an urge to kiss the ground, then?”

Chuck managed to shake his head, purposely not meeting Casey’s eyes. “I can admit it. The heat didn’t do me any favors, okay?”

“I’m guessing those two pieces of shit might have something to do with it,” Casey muttered and passed a hand over Chuck’s hair, dropped it to the back of his neck. The skin there was hot and soaked. “Or is it one of those panic attacks?”

“No, no, no. Not that.” Chuck slanted his head to the side, shamefaced that Casey would even make him relive that day. “Just ... everything that has happened. And ... what’s going to happen.”

Ah, Jesus. Knew it. Tread carefully with that big brain, kid.

Casey pressed against his side, catching hold of his arm when the kid started to lift his hands from the grass. “Let’s go, tough stuff,” he said softly, and he pulled Chuck to his feet. “You’re going to lie down until dinner. That’s an order, so don’t even think about giving me a line of crap. I’ll bring some water ... might be able to rustle up some cheese and bread, too.”

“God. I feel like an idiot,” Chuck said, the long line of his body tensing up at the firm hand settling around his middle. “The next time, let’s change things up. How about you get to be the swooning one? I could be the hard ass, hm? But I would need to borrow your hat, and I know how possessive you are about your things.”

“Less talking,” Casey murmured in his ear. “More walking.”

“Fine.” Chuck rolled his eyes and hooked an arm around Casey’s waist, his grip curling in. Casey held him with the force of granite, his anchor for now. “But be sure to let me take the stairs on my own. I don’t want you scooping me up in your big manly arms and carrying me over the threshold. It’s embarrassing, really.”

“Afraid Vic’s going to tell someone?”

“You’re always bragging how smart she is.”

Casey grunted. “Doesn’t count as bragging when it’s true.” They stopped at the foot of the stairs that led to the porch, and Chuck pulled back, laying a hand on Casey’s chest. Apparently, he was serious about wanting to do this on his own, because Casey swore he felt a gentle pressure. Despite that, he took a more secure grip on his elbow, letting the kid lean heavily on his shoulder as he steered him through the door and over to the sleeping alcove.

“And I should mention, er, thanks for letting me drool on your shoulder,” Chuck said, stopping at the side of the bed.

Casey’s head whirled to the side.

“Kidding!” Chuck’s hand flew up and he flashed a got ya smile. “Just kidding, big guy. You know, humor in the face of all adversity?”

“Yeah. Sit.” Casey pushed and sat the kid down in one move. “Stay.”

“You’re still not much into nurturing, are you?”

Casey turned a bland stare at him.

“All righty.” Chuck scooted back on the bed, and when he glanced up at Casey, his brown eyes and brows were prominent against his pale skin. “Can I ask you something?”

Casey bent down to take off the kid’s boots, and answered by raising a brow at him.

“I’ll take that as yes.” Chuck reached over to touch Casey’s arm, fingers tightening. He didn’t say anything at first, loosening his hold some, letting his fingers trail up to the swell of Casey’s bicep. “Why ... why are you doing this?”

Removing the other boot, Casey stood next to the bed, making Chuck tip his head to meet his gaze. Why? The meaning wasn’t lost on Casey. The kid wasn’t referring to today, or yesterday, or this exact moment, taking off stinky boots for him while he tried to regain his balance.

He didn’t expect the kid to get it. Not yet, anyway. No matter if everything else in his life was taken away, there was one thing he wanted above all others. God, it took forever to get there, but he knew it in a deep place now; two men making their way side by side in life, clasped together, yet it was more about filling a shell where emptiness had been eternally.

Hell if he would tell him that. “Simple, pancake.” Casey looked down at his confused face, gave into the urge to run his thumb over his bottom lip. “Lay down.”

Chuck blinked up at Casey several times. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll bring you a few things to tide you over until supper,” Casey said, dismissing his comment by pointing his chin at the bed. “Get some sleep.”

Only means this.

You’re mine.

And I belong to you now.

Before he closed the curtain of the sleeping alcove, Casey turned to him, confirming it was the heat of Chuck’s eyes he had felt over the skin of his neck. He said nothing else, but Casey couldn’t deny he had lied about one thing.

Nothing about what that damn kid did to him was simple.

-x-

“Princess. Your supper’s on.”

Casey flipped the perch, browned on both sides, onto a plate. He tipped his head to listen. No answer.

Undoubtedly, the pet name had annoyed the kid, and rather than answer to it, he probably had put the pillow over his head to block him out.

“Cupcake.”

The hush that followed was broken only by the sizzle of the butter in the pan.

“Shit,” Casey said under his breath, and acquiesced. “Chuck? I know you’re peckish as a wolf. Let’s go while it’s hot.”

The cold shoulder act was becoming irksome, but it occurred to Casey that perhaps the kid was just sleeping soundly. Overwhelmed by the past week, he did deserve it.

Inclining his head to give Chuck one more chance, Casey sighed loudly and moved the pan off to the side before he walked over to the curtain. To find Chuck in bed seemed like a fine proposition, though in his exhausted state the kid would beg to differ.

Casey could picture him exactly as before, and the memory of tasting heated skin warmed him all over again. There he’d find his lover, his arm thrown over the pillow, mussed up hair and sleepy dark eyes. It would be so easy to climb in next to him, the body-warmed blankets enveloping them, and to forget about dinner.

Except that he was gone.

“Kid?” Casey called out, swiftly scanning the tiny alcove, but really, asshole? Where would the kid hide his lanky body in a room this size? Dropping the curtain, Casey strode to the door and opened it, preparing to call out one more time.

“Whoa,” Chuck said, stumbling into him. He bounced backwards, his bare foot coming awfully close to the top step of the porch. “Must you do that?”

Casey grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him away from the danger of tumbling down the stairs. After a brief pause, he pursed his lips and he looked over the fresh-faced kid from head to toe. “You went into my pack?” Casey growled, eyes landing on the too-large shirt that seemed to engulf his lean, gangly frame. “Remember the Hands Off rule?”

“Um, sorry,” Chuck said, balking at the doorway. “You let me borrow the clean clothes last night, so I thought you wouldn’t mind?”

If the smile that came with his innocent look wasn’t irresistible, Casey would have to teach him not to do that anymore. “My sleeping pants, too, I suppose.”

“Well, after being in the pump room, everything was pretty much soaked. Don’t worry, though.” Chuck motioned towards the end of the porch. “I’ve got it in the wash basin, so tomorrow you can have your clothes back.” His smile became nervous. “Uh, are you mad?”

Casey studied him, his expression unchanging. It didn’t bother him – too much – that Chuck had gone through his belongings. No, that wasn’t it. But by the looks of the kid, damp curls stuck to his neck, the glistening drops of the clean lake on his skin, he had gone for a swim.

Interesting. Casey didn’t quite remember hearing the invite to join him. It made him realize that the kid hadn’t changed. He could be obtuse as hell when it came to certain suggestions, where only an engraved invitation would penetrate that curly head.

“Finally decided to take me up on my offer, I see?”

Chuck beamed another smile and self-consciously smoothed the front of the shirt he had stolen. Okay, fuck. Borrowed. “You were right. I was wrong. See, I can admit it.” He held up a hand. “When I woke up – much better, thank you for asking – I saw you cleaning the fish over at the sink and I ... well, I noticed you had changed and gone for a swim. So I thought what the heck, right? Nothing better than a swim after a day like today.”

Casey made a deep noise in his chest, the translation being that he was wrong there. Off the top of his head, he could think of a half a dozen ways the swim could’ve been better.

Not comprehending the look, Chuck nibbled on his lower lip and glimpsed down at the baggy shirt. “So I guess you are still mad at me?”

“You have no idea, do you?” Casey clamped down on the front of the shirt and gave it a little pull. Hell, it was his shirt, wasn’t it? And therefore, by rights, what was in it was his, too.

“What now?” Chuck asked, pulling back.

“Come on,” he said coolly, and dragging ensued. Stumbling too, but he didn’t bother turning around to verify that. “You’re dinner’s getting cold.”

-x-

“Here. Have something for you. Open your mouth.”

Chuck’s head snapped up. “You – what?”

Casey smirked. That never got old.

“Thought you could use a drink,” the larger man said, and standing over him, he put the cup under the kid’s nose. Up until that second, Chuck had been entranced by the heat and flickering flames in the fireplace, oblivious to the movement around him until Casey came to the side of his chair. “You looked like you could use some scotch. I keep an extra bottle behind the wood pile.”

“Handy,” Chuck said, craning so that he could get a better look.

“So do you want to take it, or are you waiting for me to punch a hole in the bottom so you can suck it out?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Chuck took it from him and gave it a wary sniff. “Does white willow bark have an odor? Or are you done dosing me for my own good?”

“Not tonight,” Casey replied, taking a seat in the hickory rocking chair next to the fire. “I need you awake for this.”

“For – what now?”

Casey bit down hard on his lip. In a way, it was the kid’s fault. If he didn’t make it so easy to bait him, he wouldn’t get nearly as much enjoyment out of it. “You’re spilling,” he told him, nodding at the drink in his hands. “I should remind you: that’s the good stuff.”

Chuck’s eyes darted down. “Oh, crap.” He solved the problem by licking a splash off his knuckles. “Sorry.”

Avoiding the distraction of Chuck licking skin, Casey sat down in the chair across from him and slowly lifted his drink, watching the show of nerves with curiosity. It was as if Chuck, comfortably perched in the cushioned parlor chair that faced Casey, knew he had reason to be on edge tonight.

And on the surface, why would he know that? Casey had given him nothing but a drink of scotch to warm the belly. An earthy meal of fish and potatoes at the farm table, now the pleasure of crackling flames in the river rock fireplace, radiating heat and splashing golden wavering light over them.

If his jitters didn’t prove the kid was too damn smart for his own good, then nothing ever would. His young lover seemed to have a weird intuition that Casey hoped one day he would understand. Be able to crack the code.

Nervous? You should be.

Because tonight, god damnit, Casey had him here alone and under his thumb. Nowhere to run, not another way to evade him – and before the evening ended, he was going to pull the covers off one bit of mystery. Lost boy? So far from home, eh?

“Need a little more?” Casey asked, pouring himself a shot.

“No – I’m – well. What the hell. Sure.” Chuck agreed tentatively and leaned forward, holding out his cup. “Look at us. I mean, this is nice, right? A beautiful place. No one else for miles. Maybe you were on to something by bringing me here.”

“As I recall, you needed some convincing.” Casey stared across at him. Thankfully, Chuck was in the middle of tipping his glass to his lips, so Casey didn’t have to be concerned about the kid interpreting his gaze right now. “To be honest, twerp, there might’ve been another reason to get you here.”

“Oh,” Chuck said, glancing down uneasily. “I ... ah - Has anyone ever told you that you’re not exactly the master of subtlety?” To avoid Casey’s shrewd blue eyes, he looked down at their feet, and it would only take a small stretch for their bare toes to touch. Casey would bet a silver dollar the kid was thinking about where they had explored earlier in the day. “But I already told you, as long as I’m ... like this, I’m not –”

“Yeah, I got that bit,” Casey grumbled. Eyes not leaving the kid’s face, he swirled the drink and took another swig. “Your insistence in keeping your pants on wasn’t what I was talking about this time, Bartowski.”

Hearing his fake name, Chuck gave him a puzzled look before he took a drink, obviously sensing a troubled undertone to Casey’s words. He swallowed and fidgeted with the cup between his fingers. “This might sound a little crazy, but I must be missing the signals here - which, uh, given my track record, is entirely possible, considering I’m not very experienced at ... relationships - but is it just me, or is it chilly in here?”

Casey’s face lost any of the humor or gentleness from a twinkling ago. He knew how much the kid was going to hate him for this, but it had to happen. “No more of your games, brown eyes,” he said, and his tone was studiedly neutral, leaving no room for argument. “Tonight you’re going to tell me, kid, exactly why you ran.”

Chuck tilted his head at him, saying nothing, a flush beginning on his cheeks. It seemed to take a full half minute for the genius to register the command, and suddenly he looked overheated and itchy.

“That’s what this is about? Well, fuck you,” Chuck muttered, and took a long drink. “I’m going to bed.”

“Cut and run?” Casey rolled his eyes and very carefully set his cup down. “Thought you’d say that.”

“Please don’t follow me,” Chuck added, and he started to get up.

Never learns, does he? Casey, knowing he had poked a hornet’s nest, had anticipated that little move.

So in nothing flat, he stretched his legs out in front of him, and it was too late when Chuck realized that it was to trap his knees together between two strong calves, holding him like a vice. “Going somewhere, twerp?”

“Ah! Dammit, let go. Can you – get your legs –”

“Didn’t say you could leave yet, kid. Sit your ass down.” Casey slouched back comfortably without loosening his legs an iota. To be polite, he offered the kid another shot before he poured one for himself and motioned with his cup towards the chair. “You and I ... we’re going to have a little chat first.”

Chuck twisted his legs once, twice, but at least he knew not to put up a fight. He glared his displeasure at Casey and finally plopped down in the chair. “Maybe I need to explain the nuances of human language to you. When a person tells you that you can kindly go to hell -”

“I heard you,” Casey said dryly, taking a small sip. He decided to let Chuck know the conversation wasn’t going to go his way by giving a little warning clench around the kid’s knees. “But now it’s my turn. You just sit there like a good boy, eh?”

Chuck’s eyes turned cold. “Jerk ....” He tried to kick his legs out, but that didn’t quite work, so he ended it by snapping his mouth closed.

Casey had to take a long slug so that he wouldn’t chuckle. Really, cupcake? That’s the one thing you can’t do is keep your mouth shut.

“Trying to be honest with you, kid,” Casey said, content to settle back in the chair. “And I knew pulling your little secret out of you would be a challenge even for me. So I had to do a little digging of my own.”

“Digging?” Chuck started to splutter and tell him off, but he stopped. “Wait. That’s a lie – a trick!”

“Cute move, kid.” Casey had to shake his head at the way his breathing picked up. How Chuck ever kept secrets was a mystery. “The only trick was that Liam had kept those letters of yours they found the day they took you,” he went on to explain, serenely reaching into his pocket. “I had to borrow them from Liam’s desk after supper a few nights ago. Recognize these?”

Chuck focused on the wrinkled envelopes and wet his throat. “They belong to me,” he said icily.

“Yeah? And if you’re good, you’ll get them back.” When he opened his mouth to protest, Casey held up a finger. “And don’t waste your breath lecturing me. That’s only for people who give a shit.”

“Did you – did you read them?” Chuck searched his face and drew his fingers into a fist. “Why am I asking? God! Of course you did!”

Casey barely twitched a muscle, only to flip through the envelopes in his hand, which had Chuck trying to wriggle his knees free again. “Easy there, muffin, I’m almost done,” he said, giving the kid a lighter squeeze that time. “The surprising thing is that there really wasn’t much here that I didn’t know already. Letters to your sister that you never sent to her. Letters from your dickhead roommate that you never opened –”

“I don’t believe this! You really did read them.” Chuck hunched his shoulders. “You violated my privacy.”

Casey smirked and dragged one of his feet over his calf. “You might remember, sunshine, I’ve violated a hell of a lot more than that.”

“Funny, but it looks like you went to all that trouble for nothing.” Chuck gave him one last insulted glance and turned his attention to fire. “You didn’t learn a damn thing about me.”

“I said not much.” Casey kept a watchful eye on the kid and pulled out one loose piece of paper. “Oddest thing, though. Among all those letters ... there was this.”

At Casey’s movement and quiet words, Chuck couldn’t help it. Not a chance to stop himself, and Casey knew that about him. It was his curious nature to look, to see if he could discern what had piqued Casey’s curiosity.

So in that instant, the kid did exactly what he wanted him to do. Those dark eyes which had been intently eluding him turned to look at Casey’s hand. When he did, Casey threaded the paper between two fingers and held it up. Maybe he could explain it, because the crazy symbols made no sense to him.

“This? What’s – oh.”

Casey flicked the edge of the paper. “Start talking, kid.”

Instead, all the blood rushed out of Chuck’s face. “Where did you – no. No, no, no ....”

Casey stared at the other man, ignoring the goose bumps he felt rolling over his skin. He wasn’t expecting to see the kid have a miniature seizure right then, but hell, who would? Or maybe Chuck finally had given into one of those panic attacks, unable to draw a breath, shaky as a willow. No other explanation came to mind.

But something had come to the surface for Chuck, senses completely open. In a heartbeat, Casey knew this looked nothing like the attack he had witnessed before. This was ... like a damn fluttery spell or someone caught on the brink –

It was done. The kid blinked away the last of the fog and sucked in a huge lungful of air. “Wh-what?”

“... the hell?” Casey growled, and he dropped his feet to the floor, too perplexed to realize or even care that Chuck’s legs were now freed. Rising out of the chair, he bent over him, squinted down at that mop of unruly hair. “Son of a bitch.” Would this kid always be too complicated to explain?

“Oh, no,” Chuck whispered. Still blinking, he raised a wobbly hand to his temple. “Not now. Not ever. Not now....”

“Jesus. Christ,” Casey gritted between his teeth. He had to see his eyes, what was in them now, so he lowered his face until he was almost level with the kid, took hold of his jaw. “Look at me.”

A pair of wide brown eyes pointed up at him, pupils expanded to the size of raisins. Chuck seemed to be blinking a lot, his brain churning and tripping. Finally, after a minute that stretched to eternity, a panicked smile touched his mouth, and he spoke.

“Um, this could get kind of complicated,” and the kid winced at how ridiculous that sounded. “So do you think there’s any chance we can just pretend that never happened?”

Casey stayed quiet for a minute as his mind chewed on what he just saw. His eyes swept around the room; it felt as if something dark had entered it and left, but of course, it was just he and the startled boy.

“Mind telling me,” he said at last, “what the fuck just happened there?”

-x- End Chapter Eight Sins Fell Angels-x-


	9. Chapter Nine

-x-

A pair of wide brown eyes pointed up at him, pupils expanded to the size of raisins. Chuck seemed to be blinking a lot, his brain churning and tripping. Finally, after a minute that stretched to eternity, a panicked smile touched his mouth, and he spoke.

“Um, this could get kind of complicated,” and the kid winced at how ridiculous that sounded. “So do you think there’s any chance we can just pretend that never happened?”

Casey stayed quiet for a minute as his mind chewed on what he just saw. His eyes swept around the room; it felt as if something dark had entered it and left, but of course, it was just he and the startled boy.

“Mind telling me,” he said at last, “what the fuck just happened there?”

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Nine

-x-

“I – it was nothing,” Chuck blurted, hands waving. “It was just ... a sneeze. Have you ever had that happen? When you think you’re going to sneeze, and – and it doesn’t come? And you’re – you know.” He began to demonstrate by jerking his head back spasmodically. “Like ... this?”

“Bullshit.” Casey’s fingertips curled around his jaw, gave a warning squeeze. “That looked nothing like it. Kid, I’ve never seen a man’s eyes do what I just witnessed.”

“No, honest! Please. Let go.”

“A sneeze, huh?” Morbid curiosity made him reach for the strange slip of paper again. “Let’s try that one more time, then.”

“Stop! Oh, crap.” Chuck slammed his eyes shut. “Put it away. I can’t.”

Casey considered how he could pry his eyes open. At minimum, it would take getting him into a headlock, and logic told him that pinning down his already fidgety boyfriend in an unseemly move now would do nothing for his chances of pinning him down in a more provocative fashion tonight.

“You can stop your squirming.” Casey waited, studying his face intently, but he still didn’t open his eyes. “I won’t do it.”

“You have to promise,” Chuck said. “I want to hear it.”

Casey arched an eyebrow. What the fuck had him acting like this? This wasn’t what happened in reality. Not to a stone-cold conman and a kid so squeaky clean that getting him dirty was going to be Casey’s life work. The real world came in a not-so-pretty crate of shit where everything could be explained away with a hand wave or a shot of whiskey.

Not like this.

But it was something Casey saw right then, not belonging, and it was enough to make the kid tremble. The hold he had on him let Casey feel him tense up through his hand, climbing his arm like a whip of heat.

“I promise,” Casey said between his teeth. “But get this straight, kid: you will tell me what I just saw. And if you even think about lying to me, my promise is off the table, and I will make you ... do it again. Whatever the hell that was.”

Chuck’s face contorted into an awful grimace. “Can’t we just forget it?”

“No.”

Chuck dithered for a moment, his hand pulling on one finger. Casey recognized the fussy gesture from before, so he let it play out, knowing the kid would break.

“If ... you’re going to ... be with me, I guess,” Chuck began, wary eyes cracking open to slits, “that means ... you need to know.”

“Fine,” Casey bit out. “Now, can you skip the theatrics and get to the part where any of this makes a fucking bit of sense?”

“Then can you skip the grumpiness and get to the part where you let go of my jaw? It’s a little hard to talk like this.”

Just to get his point across, there was one last clench, fingers against dark stubble. His eyes covered every feature, and when he lingered on Chuck’s lips, a thumb caressed them, brushing back and forth a couple times.

With the way Chuck swallowed hard, Casey knew he had caught on to the meaning. A simple touch, yes, but underneath that a caveat that what came out of his lips had better be the truth.

Satisfied that the message was heard, Casey took his time releasing each finger bit by bit. “I know what I saw,” he told him. To be honest, he had no idea what he just saw, but it seemed to be a way to let the kid know if he tried to pull the lame-ass sneeze excuse again, he may just find himself in that headlock, and a solid fuck off the table tonight. “The paper in my pocket. There were designs of some -”

“They’re not designs,” Chuck said. He put his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands in front of him. “They’re symbols.”

“Symbols,” Casey repeated skeptically and snatched his glass of scotch from the side table. He had a suspicion he was going to need it. “Whatever they were, they triggered a ... reaction from you. Your eyes ... they did this weird – hell, I don’t know – fluttery flashy movement.”

Chuck pushed his hands against his face, rubbing his eyes, as if he wished they could take it back. “You could call it that,” he said, sounding weary. “A ... flash.”

“And you knew. Before it happened.”

The kid took a half second to paste on the innocent look. “I’m not sure what you think you saw, but -”

“Drop the act. Let me remind you, then. You braced yourself the second I showed you the paper.” He paid no heed to the hurt look. “You damn well knew something was going to happen. In fact, I think you wanted to be able to stop it. Control it, but you couldn’t.”

Chuck looked at his flinty countenance and shut his eyes. “Oh hell.” One of his hands moved to scrub the back of his neck. “This was never supposed to happen again.”

“You want to know what else I saw?” Casey muttered grimly, ignoring him.

“I was really hoping that was enough of a spectacle.”

“Not even close,” Casey said. “I saw fear.” He traced his temple where the amber light dappled one of Chuck’s remaining bruises. “You’re afraid. It was in your eyes, boyo. Even more than the fear Liam or the other two put there.”

“Yes. But I have every right, okay?” Chuck admitted quietly, and the kid, who Casey knew to be a resilient little shit, at once seemed vulnerable. “Fear of who and what I am. Was, I mean.” He huffed at the slip-up. “Not anymore.”

Casey leaned forward, his blue eyes focused on his face. He didn’t see the awkward kid, but the young man he had fallen for trying to hold it together. It gave him the oddest ripple over his skin. Symbols? Flashes? Jesus. It was like a box had spilled on its side, jumbling up everything he knew about Chuck.

“What are you afraid of? With me right here?”

“Not every demon can be exorcised with blunt force, you know.”

“Heh. My way gets results.”

Much to Casey’s annoyance, Chuck slanted his head away from his touch. “I know you think I’m a coward, but you don’t know my reasons. I have every right to be frightened.”

Coward? Casey made a vow then and there to himself. No matter what happened between him and the most beautiful yet troubled young man he had ever laid eyes on, he’d shove a kernel of self-worth under that thick mop of hair. Make him understand that he was one of the bravest men Casey had ever known.

But not tonight.

“Enough of your delay tactics, cupcake,” Casey said, and he moved his chair right up to Chuck’s, sitting forward to put contact points at their knees. Since Chuck didn’t lift his eyes, two large hands then came down on the kid’s thighs. “We’re going to do this tonight. You’re telling me what’s got you shaking.” He joggled one of his legs to make him look. “What the hell is going on?”

Chuck pulled away and rested his head back against the top of the chair. About now, Casey wanted to bring his hands up to his shoulders, not certain if it was to shake the answer from him, or hold him long enough to get the lost look from his face. So he decided to let him look up at the ceiling.

“Not what, Casey,” Chuck murmured. “The question is who.” He swallowed thickly, giving Casey a view of his pale neck when it bobbed. “Who am I. That’s what you meant to ask.”

Casey thought of putting his lips on the hollow of his exposed neck and forgetting this night happened. Instead he glanced at the fire, flames slowly dying. Something told him the kid was not referring to his birthright, his name. It was intuition, but he knew the words coming were a single flicker with enough energy to ignite the forest around them.

And he really didn’t want to hear this shit. But he had gone this far. He had to know.

“Who? I thought Liam cleared up that dilemma.” Casey moved his hands to the kid’s wrists, circling them with strong fingers. A deliberate signal to relay his bitterness that he had to find out that way, and despite that fact, making it clear who belonged to whom now.

Chuck lowered his head, looked down at their crossed hands, his own open palm. “Yes, he told you about me. I suppose he told you I’m a Boston blue blood. A runaway with big dreams, right?”

“But that wasn’t everything.”

“No, not quite.” A quiver in his muscles increased at Casey’s hold. “Actually, not at all.”

“Then I’m going to ask again, kid.” Impatience and the need to get this over with made Casey press his thumb into the sensitive inner wrist. “Who are you?”

“Ah - you’re not going to let go until I tell you, is that it?”

“Good thinking. Just be thankful I won’t use my usual methods to get it out of you, eh?” He had to smirk lewdly at Chuck’s wide-eyed look. Yeah, roll that around in that big brain of yours. “Now, if we’re done playing patty cake, kid, do you mind? Answer the damn question.”

“This isn’t what you want to hear,” Chuck said. “In fact, it’s going to sound a little ... oh, I don’t know, crazy?”

“But I will hear it.” Casey swept his thumb again, lighter, an urging. Come on. Get it over with.

Chuck let out a breath. There was just his face, close, and those dark eyes meeting his. “I’m the Cipher’s Keeper,” the kid said in a low voice. “I’m the one ... they’ve been waiting for.”

-x-

Casey leaned his backside against the woodpile and brought the bottle up to his lips, taking a long swig of the scotch. When that wasn’t nearly enough to drown out the noise in his ears, he lifted it and took another.

“He knew. Goddamn Liam,” Casey swore under his breath. “All along, that fucking bastard was right. And I didn’t listen.” He scowled, his hand swirling the bottle. “The kid’s dafter than a hatter. Madder than the ones who wait for the Tommy Knockers in the mines.”

God, he wanted to kick something. Punch it, hurt it. He managed to land a kick on one of the loose smaller logs, sending it into the brush at the edge of the clearing. Darkness devoured it and he had the sudden impression he could enter the forest and disappear into the shroud, never come back.

“Yeah, you’d go and leave him, huh?” Jesus, who was being the coward now? He took another pull, staring dead ahead into the night. “Oh, you’re good, kid. I thought I was the best. Thought no other conman could ever pull one over on me.”

Casey snorted at his own idiocy, his breath misting the cool night air. “But you, pancake? You are the master of all frauds. Your secrets ... dreams of flying. And all along – feeding me nothing but damn craziness.”

Well, it figured this would go haywire.

He rubbed a hand through his hair. A light evening breeze lifted the hem of his thin cotton shirt, but it was easy to ignore the goose bumps rising on his ribcage, his arms. Easy to ignore everything around him except the bottle.

Maybe his thoughts.

Shit. The kid was bonkers, utterly out of his tree.

Worse than that, he had fallen for it. Blinded by long legs, smarts, and a certain willingness that was decidedly sexy as hell.

Casey shook his head and lifted the bottle to his lips, but he heard a soft knocking sound that made him turn. When he did, he saw that to get his attention, Chuck had lightly tapped the door frame.

“Just me.” Chuck cleared his throat and gave him a small wave. The kid stood next to the back door, shuffling uncomfortably on his feet at the fact that he had invaded Casey’s privacy. “What are you doing out there?”

What he was doing – in private – was none of the kid’s damn business. Because it only seemed right for a man to have solitude if he wanted to get juiced in the dark next to a woodpile. He only wished there was enough in the bottle to forget that he had been hornswoggled by a lop-sided smile and dark eyes.

Casey grunted and washed down a shot.

“Hey ... I wondered where you went,” Chuck went on, trying to sound upbeat. When Casey squinted over at him and said nothing, he flashed a nervous smile. “With the, uh, booze.”

Rolling his eyes, Casey went back to getting appropriately liquored up. He had a long ways to go, and the kid was only stymying the attempt.

“Everything okay out here?” Chuck reached behind the door and lifted the kerosene lantern, the splash of light over Casey allowing the kid to peer over at the larger man, and Casey couldn’t believe it was him taking inventory. Like he should be worried, and not the other way around. God, this was fucked.

“M’ fine.”

“Really? Because you’re standing out in the dark when there’s a perfectly good lodge right here. Sure you don’t want to come in?”

“Did you really just respond to my question in there with a bat-shit crazy answer?”

“Um, maybe?”

“Then I’m not coming in.” Casey punctuated that by taking another swig.

“Wow. Hello to you, too.” Chuck lowered the lantern a bit and blew a breath that sounded frustrated. Hell. Stand in line, sister. “I knew you were stubborn, but this is more than I expected.”

“Expected?” Casey asked, frowning at him. “You thought about this?”

“Well ... ah, yes,” the kid said, lifting a hand to fight off the glare of the kerosene lamp. “I knew eventually I’d have to say something, and I tried to hazard a guess on how you would react. Huh. Getting boozed up behind the house was not one of the options I had considered.”

“Yeah? Which option came out on top?”

“Honestly? Sarcastic lambasting.” Chuck hesitated on the back step. “Oh, and sometimes with ominous threats that I’m never to speak of this again. Maybe with you holding a gun to my head.”

“Heh. Stick around then,” Casey remarked, lip curling into a feral smile. “You might find out you were right after all.”

“Oh, fun,” Chuck said to himself. “Something to look forward to.” He glanced down at a bunched-up object in his hand and then tilted his head at him. “I brought your coat. I thought you might get chilly out here.”

“Got this to keep me warm,” Casey informed him, giving the bottle a little wag. Too much good scotch was still sloshing against the brown glass, he thought, so he took care of that by tipping it up again.

“I see that.” After a moment of proper reverence for the booze, Chuck rubbed his forearm for warmth before waving the coat. “Mind if I put it on, then? It’s a little chilly out here ... and I don’t have the liquid fortification you have.”

“Suit yourself.” Lifting a shoulder, Casey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Wouldn’t want you sick on top of ... everything else ....”

For a long minute, Chuck stayed exactly as he was, not bothering with the coat. Casey wasn’t certain if he had heard the last pronouncement, but now the kid scrunched his eyes at him. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Casey made a scornful noise in his chest. “Nothing gets by you, does it, twerp?”

In this case, the kid was wrong, but it felt good to say so. Truth be known, he was only angry with the big asshole slouching against the woodpile, holding a half full – no, half empty – bottle.

After all, he was the one who let himself get bamboozled by Chuck’s mental mis-wiring.

“Would it be okay if I join you out here?”

“Only have one bottle, kid.”

“That’s okay, I don’t need any,” Chuck said, and he slid his arms into the sleeves of Casey’s coat. The worn brown duster, like everything else, didn’t fit him at all. Kind of swallowed him up like the madness had. “And not that it’s polite to point this out, but I think you’ll drink enough for both of us.”

“Slainte, muffin.”

“What?”

Casey shrugged and took a longer sip just to prove he was right. As he tipped back, he felt the logs he leaned on digging into his shoulders, but he didn’t care. He had a lunatic boyfriend. Hey, but at least he had booze to wash that away.

“Will it help if I say I’m sorry for springing this on you?”

“Yeah, that’ll fix everything.” Christ. He really had no idea that he’s batty.

“O-kay, staying mad is good, too. For now, anyway.” Chuck took another long look at him and edged a little closer. His arms were folded in front of him, and Casey wondered if getting into his coat gave the kid a bit of an attitude. The guiltless smooth face and wacky hair didn’t quite go with the badass duster, but it struck Casey as odd and weird that the kid seemed to be taking charge. Quietly, but he was doing it.

He never knew that would be a little hot.

Hell. It could be, anyway, if little baby-face over there wasn’t out of his flipping mind.

“You gonna stand there all night, kid?” Casey asked without looking over at him. “If you got something to say, just say it so you can stop gawping at me.”

Chuck’s eyes drifted down to the bottle, and he was definitely thinking of how he could wrestle it away. “Yes, I do as a matter of fact, but I’m not so sure you’re ready to listen.”

“It’s gonna take way more than this to get me to stop listening,” Casey grumbled, giving a sidelong look at the woodpile where he had plucked out the booze. “Huh. Liam. Wonder if that big bastard keeps a stash up here, too ....”

“That’s probably not a good idea, big guy.”

Casey turned his cold face on Chuck. “Yeah, and I just decided three’s a crowd. Maybe you should head inside, eh?”

“Three? Oh, your bottled friend, Pembroke. No, I don’t think so.” Chuck sauntered in a little closer, leaving the lantern on the porch. “I’ve ... waited my life to tell someone about ... this. And now that I can, you’re not going to get rid of me that easily.”

What? Never told anyone he was crazy? How the hell do you hide that? The sister had to know.

“I’m not crazy,” Chuck said, making Casey turn to look at him. He never heard that a man whose brain was around the bend had mind reading abilities, but then again, Chuck was full of surprises tonight. “Yes, it’s true that I have something in my head, but it doesn’t make me nuts.” He laughed shakily. “Well, not in that way at least.”

Casey twisted the bottle between a few fingers and let his eyes drift over the kid, up and down. Might as well play along. “So let me get this straight. This thing. In your head. It made you ... what was the word?”

“Uh, flash?”

Casey pinched the bridge of his nose. God, there was not enough booze for this. “Yeah ... let’s go with that. So it made you ... flash when you saw the symbols ... and now, I’m supposed to believe you’re not a few gunslingers and a rope short of a posse?”

“What?”

“Hell, never mind.”

Chuck blinked at him. “Hold on. You don’t believe me.”

Casey took another pull. That should’ve spelled it out for the genius.

“You do realize that I shared my deepest secret with you, and now you’re getting drunk on top of a woodpile.”

“Next to a woodpile,” Casey pointed out. “Get it straight.” He leaned his elbow along the top row of logs, feeling it wobble. “Don’t think I could ride the thing right now.”

“Ride it ... uh-huh. I stand corrected,” Chuck said. “Next to a woodpile.” He strolled over until he was a few feet away, his face taking on a thoughtful look. “Not on the drunk part, though.”

At any other point, he would’ve ignored Chuck after that and waited for him to go away. It wasn’t as easy as he thought. There was a hurt, yet solemn demeanor under his attempt to be brave, and given that they were stuck up at the lodge until he could figure out what to do with the kid, it seemed like he should at least ask the inevitable question.

“So this thing,” Casey began cautiously. “What is it?”

“Well.” Chuck took that as an invitation to horn in, and he leaned on the woodpile next to him. “It’s called the Cipher. I have it. I’m the only one.”

“Special, aren’t ya.”

“A little later than I guessed, but I was right about the sarcasm.”

“If you get ol’ Betsy out of the holster, I’ll move on to the next guess.”

“Lucky me.”

His mood for this shit now obvious, Casey wondered if the kid would leave, but he stayed next to him. They stood in silence with their backs against the stack of firewood, facing out to the shadowy woods behind the lodge. For a minute or two, it seemed almost normal, listening to the crickets, the croak of frogs down at the lake.

A normal man. Steamy relationship.

It was all going to be too perfect. That was the problem. Maybe it was God’s way of taunting him, saying he was never going to have what he wanted.

Who knew God had a fucking sense of humor.

“Why is this damn thing so important?” Casey asked, and out of the corner of his eye, he dared a small peek at the kid. He didn’t seem ... crazy. He had that same lost yet warm look in his eyes.

Chuck stared out into the darkness, not seeing, but his brows were crinkled. “It lets me see things ... I’d rather not see. Do things I have no interest in doing.”

“Then why do it?”

“Others think it’s vitally important.” Chuck frowned and shoved his hands in the coat pockets. “It can ... fundamentally change, well, everything.”

“A bit dramatic, don’t ya think?” Casey took a shorter sip, realizing if they were going to have this talk, he wanted to be awake for it. “You’re just one kid. One measly little grain of sand. See that up there?” He motioned beyond the tops of the trees, a dark canopy over them. “Stars no one will ever reach. You’re a speck, kid. Like me. Nothing more than that.”

“I wish that were true,” Chuck replied softly. He tipped his head back to search the sky and pushed his fingers through is hair. “But the ... Keepers who came before me -”

“Keepers?” Casey broke in, holding up a hand. “So there were others?”

“Yes.” The kid gave away his case of the jitters by wetting his throat. A good act, Casey thought snidely, but kept it inside. “They changed – um, maybe think of it as guided? – most of what we accept.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Well, everything. What we know about those little pinpricks of light up there. The oceans. Earth. Society ... but science, mostly.” Chuck looked down at his boots and laughed a bit. “Wow. I’ve been waiting to say this all my life – and you’re right. It does sound a little crazy.”

Actually, a whole hell of a lot crazy, but hey, the kid was on a roll and Casey didn’t wanna upset his barmy-cart.

“Who else knows ... about this little dog and pony show you’ve got stuck between the ears?”

That was a real laugh, at least. Nervous, embarrassed, but genuine. Hearing it, Casey recognized it had been too long since he heard laughter in his lover’s voice. It was disconcerting how much he missed that sound, how in the face of everything, it made the air around them seem slightly warmer.

“They do, of course.” Chuck inched closer to his side and sent a furtive glance over, obviously trying to read him. “But I don’t know of anyone else.”

“They? Mind sharing who they are?”

“Well, I’ve gone this far,” Chuck said. As he turned to him, he cocked his head towards the porch. “Would you like to sit down? Over on the steps?”

“Implying I’m gettin’ drunk?”

“No. Not at all.” The grin became the enticing one Mr. Big Brown Eyes used when he wanted something. Something that wasn’t as easy to get as the thing Casey wanted to give him. “It’s just that they look more comfortable than being hunkered down against the woodpile.”

Casey looked away from those chocolate eyes and bright smile, knowing he didn’t need his dick trying to join the party. Thinking with that head got him in this mess, didn’t it? “Can I tell you something?”

“Um, sure?”

“Anything you have to tell me where I need to sit down? Well, that’s your first goddamn clue I don’t wanna hear it.”

“I didn’t realize there were guidelines for these types of things.”

“Let’s stick to Rules,” Casey said more sharply. He took a moment to size him up before he deliberately pushed off the woodpile. “In fact, button, speaking of things I never want to hear from you, let’s start from the beginning, eh?”

Chuck gave him the puppy head tilt. “Are sure you’re not ... drunk?”

“Not yet.” Lifting the hand not holding the bottle, Casey held up one finger. “Rule number one. If you ever finish building that crazy-ass flying machine? I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?” Chuck went bug-eyed. “But – wouldn’t you want to know if it actually works?”

“Rule number two,” Casey continued as if Chuck hadn’t spoken. “If you ever get the idea to go up to a cliff, jump off, and take a ride in that crazy-ass flying machine? I don’t want to hear it.”

“You know, you could hold a bit more appreciation for the scientific mind that would produce said flying machine.”

“Rule number three.” A pause, long enough for Casey’s gaze to drop down Chuck’s slender body and back up to his face. “If you ever find out you’ve gone and got yourself ... in a family way, princess –”

“What?” By now, Chuck was gaping. “Are you talking about being –” and he had to lower his voice to a hiss – “pregnant?”

“- I sure as hell don’t wanna to hear it.”

Stinging at the slight to his manhood, Chuck straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, for one – and I’m sure you’re well aware of this – but I happen to be lacking some of the equipment necessary to – well, you know.”

“I mighta noticed.”

“And two, if there ever was a way that could happen – trust me, you’re sure as hell going the first person to know about it. Bucko.”

Casey chuckled as he picked up the bottle, only because the kid was getting better at this game. “Are you sure it’d be mine?”

“Hah. And finally, point three,” Chuck went on, and he pressed in so that their hips bumped, “you’re not going to use that little diversion about my flying machine and ... physical impossibilities to avoid sitting on the steps and talking with me.”

Casey shrugged and took another nip. Christ. The kid was getting too good at this. “Right this minute, I suppose.”

“Please?” Chuck extended his palm and waggled his fingers. “Come on, big guy. Give me your hand.”

“Stop callin’ me that. Hate nicknames,” Casey said. He turned to him, needing to ensure the kid saw the disgruntled look he caused.

Well, that was his unfortunate error, and Chuck knew it. As soon as he had Casey’s attention, the kid flashed a crooked smile. “I said please.” Another hand motion. Take it.

“Ah, fuck,” Casey mumbled. He would never recall precisely how it happened, save that last night at the farm when he knew he’d come back, but Chuck was gradually exerting more control than Casey had ever given up.

“In some odd aberration of linguistics, does that translate to yes?”

“Can it. Lead the way.” His big paw landed begrudgingly in Chuck’s hand, and he let himself get towed to the back porch steps. Hell, didn’t even stumble.

“Here’s a cozy spot,” Chuck said, motioning to one of the stairs.

“Only if your ass is flat.” Casey looked down and to the side. “You’ll be fine.”

Chuck rolled his eyes and pulled on his hand. “Come on.” The light of the lantern, off to the side next to the door, pooled them in an ocher glow surrounded by darkness. As soon as Casey plopped down on the middle step, he immediately felt the kid scoot over next to him, aligning their shoulders, the sharp bone of his hip, long legs. It wasn’t until that second that Casey realized the night air had turned cool, and he pressed his side into the contrasting warmth of Chuck’s body, the brown duster holding in his heat.

The wood plank stairs where they sat faced the dense forest, a thick wall of tall pine trees and aspens that grew at the edge of the clearing. Nothing but blackness beyond that, so it seemed like the thing Casey wanted to stare at right now.

“Are you okay?” Chuck asked, kicking at a tiny stone under his boot.

“Are you asking if I’m shot in the neck?”

“What? Were you – holy -”

“Settle, goddess,” Casey said. “It means drunk, and no, if that’s what you’re asking.” That much was true. He wasn’t kidding when he said it would take more than what the meager bottle had to offer. “They?”

“They?” Chuck looked puzzled until he turned and saw Casey lift a brow. “Oh, you mean – them.”

“Isn’t that what we were talking about, sport?” Casey rolled his eyes, happy to prove he wasn’t juiced after all.

“Do you really hate nicknames?”

“Stay with me, kid. You said ... they know about this thing stuck in your head –”

“It’s called the Cipher.”

“Yeah, that,” Casey said. “They know about the Cipher and nobody else knows.”

And it makes you do crazy shit. Like tell stories to your boyfriend when you should be getting laid.

Too bad. He’d love to have a little of that tonight. Ain’t that the truth. One look at the kid’s polly-pure face, and he knew he could take care of that problem. Fucking his brains out would be doing him double the favors tonight.

“Are you sure you’re okay, John?”

Casey snapped to attention to see Chuck studying him. “Are you ever gonna answer or do I have to pin you down?”

“You know, that’s a figurative expression,” Chuck argued, but he did scoot an inch or two away.

“Not the way I do it, kid.”

Chuck’s eyes roamed over Casey’s large comfortable sprawl on the stairs and he quickly cleared his throat. “Okay ... okay, no pinning necessary.” He put his hands on his knees and looked out over the woods. “Have you ever heard of ... the golden dawn ... or maybe the Rosicrucians?”

“Rule four. If you can’t shoot it, eat it, or rob it blind, I may not have heard of it, kid.”

“That does help clear things up on my end.” Chuck continued to fiddle with his thumb. “How about the Knights of the Round Table? King Arthur?”

“Yeah ... that one.” Casey stretched out his legs on the bottom step, already missing the points of contact between their bodies. “A legend ... that’s all it is. Hell, all of those things are nothing but made-up stories and kiddie magic.”

Chuck turned to him and gave one of those lightning-quick smiles before he hunched forward. “You might be onto something, Casey. Either way, I think just about all of it - secret societies, clandestine brotherhoods of intellect – is a bunch of, well, bullshit.”

Casey snorted softly. The kid rarely let out any kind of a curse, and hearing it made the larger man look over at him. Chuck was more serious-looking than Casey could ever recall. It didn’t quite fit, the way he stared out at the woods, his face now ghostly pale against the moonless night. Something between Chuck’s own shame and fear of who and what he was had made him go still.

“Hey. Lean back here,” Casey said, gently taking his arm. “Like you were a minute ago. Share a little of that body heat.” He tugged on Chuck’s sleeve, steering him down until the kid reclined with his shoulder lined up to Casey’s, the warmth of his body settling over him again. “Freezing my ass off without you here.”

Only a partial lie, Casey figured. Sure, it was chillier when he didn’t have that full body contact burning him along one side, but that wasn’t entirely the truth. For this, whatever Chuck had to say next, he wanted to keep him close.

“Maybe I was wrong to say something,” Chuck told him. “Maybe we should go in.”

“Kid, if it’s all bullshit,” Casey said, “why are your hands shaking?”

Chuck looked down at his hands and clasped them together stiffly, but it was too late. Casey had already witnessed the trembling. “Just the cold,” the kid murmured. “Are you coming?”

“Or does it have something to do with the fact you said just about all of it.”

“You heard that?” Chuck said, brows lifting. “I guess you’re not as drunk as I had hoped.”

“Hoping to get me drunk, kid?”

“You’re going to torture me about my hands-off policy until we get out of this, aren’t you?”

Casey grunted. Translation, hell yes. “What you said ... implies there’s something else that doesn’t quite fit. So now you’re gonna tell me.”

Not that he wanted to hear it, but how the hell else would Casey know how broken this kid’s head was?

What if he couldn’t be fixed? Would he always be looney?

Casey willed those thoughts from his mind, and sensing the kid would try to get up from the stairs to put distance between them, he wrapped his fingers around one of his wrists and held on.

It took Chuck a second to put it together. “You’re not going to let go, are you?”

“Nope.” Probably ever, kid.

“I’m not sure this is the way to have a serious conversation with your boyfriend. Not that I’m an expert, but it seems the brute force method of getting information is – ah, okay, I’m done.”

“Speak,” Casey demanded, giving his wrist another squeeze.

“Wow. Can I get something other than one syllable?”

Casey growled. He didn’t let go.

“Someday you might see the humor in this.”

“Oh, I’m laughing, kid,” and he turned his bland stare on him.

“I ... see.” Chuck wisely picked up on the fact that now wasn’t the time. Twisting his wrist, he managed to turn it in Casey’s grasp, and Casey felt warm fingers encircle his own wrist. “Now we’re even.”

“Think so?” Casey asked. He pulled until the kid had no choice but to lay his arm over Casey’s bulky thighs. “My patience is just about gone. Finish the story.”

Chuck glanced down at his trapped hand, awfully close to the place between the larger man’s parted thighs. It was accidental, but if it put that edgy look in his eyes, so what? Gotta talk now, kid, because I know you don’t want your hand there. Not yet, anyway.

At least he stopped twisting, once he got over the initial shock of being manhandled. “It’s ... like everything in life that we can’t explain, okay? If it doesn’t fit in neatly with what we know, we’re skeptical.”

“So?”

Chuck let out a breath. “So, secret societies ... the influence of world affairs – turning scientific theorems upside down ... well, it is bullshit,” he said, clenching his hand. “Except for -”

“Don’t you dare finish that –”

“- the one time it’s true.”

Casey squinted at him for a long moment. Then he dropped the kid’s wrist in order to reach for the bottle. “And now we’re back to things I really don’t want to hear about. Any of it,” he added grouchily, knowing he was about to hear all of it.

-x- End Chapter Nine Sins Fell Angels-x-


	10. Chapter Ten

-x-

Where we left off ....

“So?”

Chuck let out a breath. “So, secret societies ... the influence of world affairs – turning scientific theorems upside down ... well, it is bullshit,” he said, clenching his hand. “Except for -”

“Don’t you dare finish that –”

“- the one time it’s true.”

Casey squinted at him for a long moment. Then he dropped the kid’s wrist in order to reach for the bottle. “And now we’re back to things I really don’t want to hear about. Any of it,” he added grouchily, knowing he was about to hear all of it.

 

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Ten

-x-

“Skepticism without the sarcasm.” Chuck inclined his head. “Hm. Not one of my anticipated responses. I don’t know if I should be worried or not.”

He did appear worried, so after giving him a look that said drop it so that they could get back inside, Casey let go of Chuck’s wrist. “Come on, kid. Get up. I’m done.”

Chuck stayed put, shooting him a face full of hurt. “I went this far, okay? I’m not going inside until I can get you to believe me.”

Then you’re gonna be here a hell of a long time, Casey thought. But halfway to his feet, he took one more glimpse at the kid’s stubborn profile.

Shit. That was his mistake. Knowing that even puppies could hang onto something with their teeth forever when they set their mind to it, Casey gave a long-suffering huff and plopped back down on the step.

“Share some of the coat, then.” The night air had turned chillier, and despite the need to keep a little distance for now, he leaned into the kid. The scotch didn’t warm him as much as Chuck’s heat, radiating from his long body lined up to his.

“Oh, sorry. Do you want you it back?”

“Nah.” Casey pressed in a bit more, grumbled. “This is good.”

“Can we keep going?”

Casey took another swig and listened to the night sounds for a moment. He couldn’t shake the strong suspicion this night would get more screwed up. “How do you know it’s true?” he asked after some time had passed. “Could be something just stuck in your head that doesn’t belong there.”

“So you do believe me?”

“I meant the idea of this little conspiracy you’ve cooked up.” Casey slanted a look at the side of the kid’s head. “Not that … thing. How would this happen, anyway?”

“It ... started with my dad.” It made him uncomfortable to bring up his father if that little wobble in his voice meant anything. As he hesitated, the kid avoided Casey’s eyes by staring out into the blackness of the dense woods. “And it all ended with Bryce.”

“Bryce?” Casey had to fight the urge to make a fist. That was the last name he had expected to hear. “Who – you mean your damn roommate? The ass hat from Harvard? The one who –”

“Whoa, whoa,” Chuck broke in, holding up a hand. “I’d rather not live through that confession again. Anyway, that’s not what this is about. The truth is I still have a lot of questions for him myself.”

“Heh. I do, too,” Casey said, resting the bottle on his thigh. “‘Course, when I ask them, I’ll be using a different method than yours, kid.”

“Method?”

“Betty.”

“Bet – wait. Your gun?!”

“You need to get answers? Well, you’d be surprised how chatty men get with the proper motivation.”

“Can we stay focused here?”

“You brought it up.”

Chuck pressed his lips together briefly. “You’re never going to meet him. I’m never going to see him again.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s … one of the reasons I left,” Chuck admitted, looking pained. “The last I heard, Bryce was in Atlanta, working for his father’s accounting firm.”

“So you won’t see him because of his little ‘fuck and run’ routine he pulled on you, or is there another reason?”

Chuck swiveled his head to point a scowl at him. “I’m ignoring the first part of your colorful commentary, but yes. For another reason.”

Funny, but his senses had rippled a minute ago at that dirt bag’s name. Casey had to concede that the story just got a bit more interesting to him. On top of that, he hated to tell the kid, but he had a strong feeling they would meet the dick wad some time, someway, and his intuition was rarely off kilter.

“How do your dad and Bryce fit into this? This secret society you mentioned?” He tried like hell not to sound contemptuous, but by the time he uttered secret, a snort might’ve slipped out. “And more importantly, you. Who the hell are they?”

Chuck slouched against the step, discomfort wrapping around him tighter than the coat. But Casey could wait out anyone if he needed to, and he took a small swallow from the bottle and put off saying anything.

“They ... oh hell. I don’t even know what you could call them. One time, I heard a man say they were the Chosen. That they had waited for the Keeper -”

“Let me guess. You?”

“Lucky me, huh?” Chuck said, picking at a loose thread until Casey swatted gently at his fingers. “There was another time, I heard someone say … the Golden Dawn would prevail … because of me.”

“Golden Dawn,” Casey bit out and lifted the bottle to take a quick pull. “Sounds like a bunch of insignificant pukes trying to cook up a hoax.”

“And now you’re back to thinking I’m crazy, right?”

Actually, Casey had never let go of that conclusion. “Answer this. How did you end up with … them?”

“It was my father ...” Chuck said slowly, as if the memory had been buried so deep that it took a shovel to dredge it up. “He took me there. He’s ... one of them. Which I guess makes me one of them, too.”

Great. So the dad’s crazy, too.

Casey glanced over, ready to berate him for this craptastic night, but he couldn’t help but notice that the kid’s fingers were shaking. It made him feel even more like a heartless bastard, so he reached over, wrapped his fingers around Chuck’s hand. Christ, it was cold. Like ice water flowed under his skin.

“Where’s there?” Casey asked, rubbing his hand. “Where did they take you?”

“I don’t know. They blindfolded me. Every time they took me.” Chuck turned slightly away from him, his face partially shrouded in the shadows. “I never knew where it was.”

“Hell, more than once?”

“It was dozens of times,” Chuck said, shrugging. “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, as what’s done is done.”

“But why would they even –”

“Because my dad saw it happen. The first time. That’s how he figured it out.”

“Listen, kid, this isn’t making any sense.” Casey swept his thumb over the Chuck’s knuckles, hoping he’d get the message to take a breath. “You said it started with your dad, so why don’t you start there, too.”

Chuck moved his hand to Casey’s knee, immediately spreading agreeable warmth up his leg. “Back home ... I wasn’t allowed in his study. No one was, not even my mother. His work was important to him – and part of it was a mystery. When I was little, we knew it was off limits.” While he got lost in his thoughts, a few fingers scrubbed lightly over Casey’s jeans. “I liked to think he was doing great things, experiments, helping people – a hero. But he was very … distant. To all of us.”

“And of course you couldn’t leave well enough alone,” Casey said. “Let me guess. You stuck your nose somewhere it doesn’t belong?”

The kid put on that sheepishly guilty look that always made Casey feel a little weak. “One night, on the way up to bed, I saw a light in the hallway coming from his study. I saw he had left the door open about halfway. I knew I shouldn’t go there – I should’ve just gone to bed.

“But you followed the light, I take it,” Casey said, stooping to toss a small stone next to the stair. It rattled through the leaves and fell somewhere deep in the thicket. “How old were you?”

“I was eight.” He turned his wrist to catch a few of Casey’s fingers, placed them on his own knee. “I was just a curious boy, okay? But … what really gets me is that my father only found out because he left the paper with the symbols kind of … out in the open?”

“Kind of, eh? You snooped?”

He blushed. “It was on his desk. There was a book I had never seen ... thick ... and as wide as a sewing box. The leather binding was old, wrinkled but … soft too. It had shiny etchings in the leather … and with the way the light shone on it? I really thought it was gold.” He was quiet for a moment, looking up at the stars. “I remember a damp smell, musty, and I almost didn’t go any further.”

“What made you, then?”

“I saw the yellowed paper … between the pages. I know this sounds weird –”

“Only this part sounds weird, huh?”

Chuck rolled his eyes but he didn’t move his hand from the comfortable spot it had found. “It seemed to ... want me to look – like it was throwing temptation at me, and I had to catch it.”

“Yeah, fuck. You were right. It does sound slightly weirder than the rest.”

“Geez, thanks,” Chuck said petulantly. Casey proved he was teasing by tracing small circles over his knee. That seemed to get through to him. “But a book like that? Obviously old … written in a strange handwriting, faded … like the secrets had finally sunk into the parchment. What kid wouldn’t look to see what it was?”

“Not blaming you, brown eyes.” Glancing at him, Casey put the bottle down. “What happened after that?”

“I ... flashed. That was the first time. Of course, as luck would have it, that was when my father entered the room.”

“And he saw you?” Casey turned to stare at him. It was getting harder not to get pulled into the wild-ass tale. “He saw ... that.”

“Yes,” Chuck replied, his voice getting stiffer.

“What did he do?”

“He ... well, he didn’t say anything at first,” Chuck replied, leaning back against the top step. He ran a hand over his jaw and the other hung onto Casey. “I remember he closed the door and began asking me a lot of questions. What happened ... what I saw.”

“So you told him.”

“Of course. My father was the type to command respect. Especially to an eight year old who was a bit dazed over the whole thing,” he added under his breath.

“So he caught you. Then what?”

“Well. He was ... excited. More than I’ve ever seen him before. He even hugged me. My father. Can you believe it?” The fingers squeezed his hand again. “He’d never done that before.”

Casey didn’t answer. What the hell could he say?

“In a way,” the kid went on, his voice distant, “that made it the happiest day ... of my life.” Turning his head, his attention quickly moved from Casey’s face, but it only took a millisecond to see the ache behind his dark eyes. “Funny ... but it was also the saddest day of my life....”

“Because of ... that thing, I suppose.”

“No.” Chuck blew a breath. “It was also the last time he ever hugged me.”

Casey swallowed, shifted his eyes down to their hands, together. Somehow in the past few minutes, his touch with the intention to keep the kid grounded had become a reciprocal comforting caress. As if he was the one that needed reassurance? Son of a bitch, this night gave him the willies.

“That’s when they began taking you ... to wherever the hell it was, is that it?”

Chuck wet his bottom lip, nodded. “Yes ... every few weeks, usually. Sometimes a month would go by, but no longer than that.”

“You were just a kid,” Casey observed, and for that dark realization, he did take a long pull of the scotch. Even if an iota of the story was true, who would treat his own boy that way? “What the hell did they say to you? What did they want?”

Chuck stuffed his other hand into one of the duster’s pockets. He closed his eyes, as if he was forcing himself to remember all of the interactions with them. “The intellectual property stuck in my head ... not me,” he said in a wounded voice. “It had nothing to do with me.”

“What?”

“The symbols were a trigger of some sort. They gave me ... insight, okay? Things I don’t want to know.” Chuck skimmed a look at him and grudgingly let go of Casey’s hand. “It meant I had something they called ... the Cipher. And that I was the Keeper. That they had waited seventeen generations for the One.” The kid let out a hollow laugh. “I guess I was just a tall skinny meat locker for what they really wanted.”

“Did you say no thanks to The Assholes?” Casey mumbled. His gaze cut over to the woods as he listened to the crickets, branches rustling. “Insight. I guess we’re talking about more than the insight a preacher promises by dropping a few coins in the collection plate, hm?”

The last thing he expected was Chuck’s flicker of a grin, but he did it. “You are the ultimate cynic, you know that?”

“People make me want to shoot them. Big deal.” Casey tapped his knee against Chuck’s. “Let’s hear it. We’ve gone this far.”

“This is going to sound crazy ....”

“More than the past half hour?”

“Point,” he granted, pausing to put his hand back on Casey’s thigh. “All right. Since you insist ... the flashes? When I do it, there are ... pictures in my brain – I know it sounds insane, okay, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t remind me of that right now.”

“Pictures of what, exactly?”

“What’s to come,” Chuck said, his fingers clamping down a little more tightly on Casey’s jeans. “What is, but is not known. Things ... no one should understand.”

Whether it was true or not – hell, it wasn’t - Casey could smell the fear on him. Resentment flared at the idiot dad. “But your father ... Jesus Christ. How?”

“Golden Dawn – or whoever they are.” Chuck frowned. “He’s one of them. His family always has been. The upper echelon of society. Powerful, influential ... I guess you could call it that. They ... guide. Decipher ... what is. Now we know why and how, huh?”

Casey turned to give him a look. The only thing he knew at the moment is that he was the proud owner of a wacky-ass boyfriend – and had no idea what to do about that. “So you’re saying they used you,” he said flatly, drawing his fingers around Chuck’s wrist. Odd. He was warmer now. “And there were others.”

“Yes. That’s right,” the kid said uneasily. “The last one, uh - the one who kept the Cipher? Like me? That was over four hundred years ago. At least, from what I could gather.”

Searching his mind for any kind of a reply to that, Casey lifted the bottle and then just shook his head and put it down without taking a drink. “Like you, huh?” The larger man cocked his head at him. “God help them.”

“It’s okay to smile.” Chuck drew his attention to Casey’s lips. “Or smirk. Smirking is good. And, yes, I realize how crazy this sounds.”

“Cupcake, hate to tell you, but crazy left the train station an hour ago.”

“Admittedly, it’s a lot to take in,” Chuck said, and surprised Casey by giving him a playful shoulder bump. “You’re doing great.” His eyes twinkled, but the frivolity melted when the kid turned to study his face. “But I don’t blame you for thinking I’ve lost my mind ... and I can tell you’re not entirely sure what to do with me next.”

Well, fuck it. Up until this shitload of news, he sure as hell knew what to do with him next.

He had to be honest, didn’t he? That cloak of truth still never felt quite right, but the vow he had made – no more lies if he wanted this thing between them to work – kept him from telling the kid it would be fine.

“Bunkum,” Casey said, rolling the bottle between his fingers. “Secret societies. Ciphers. What am I supposed to think? And if that thing in your head can do all of that - cure scarlet fever and make goddamn ice cream treats while doing it –”

“What – hey, I never said -”

“- then why would you run away?”

Chuck let go of Casey’s thigh and rested his elbows on his knees. “I’m sure they want to know that, too. It’s a gift, they said. The highest level of understanding. Exploited for the good of mankind. To advance science, economics ....” His voice trailed, and the kid made a soft snort. “You name it, they think the Cipher can influence it.”

“Well, let me guess,” Casey said, and picking up Chuck’s hand, he put it back on his thigh. Felt good there, so why not? “Not everything that came from it was used for good.”

Chuck snapped his head to the side, scrutinizing him. “You know, you’re pretty smart for not being a Harvard man,” he said, not able to bite back a small grin. “Being the uncouth hard ass and all that you are?”

“Yeah? Fuck off,” Casey muttered back at him, trying not to smile because that would only encourage the little smart ass.

The kid’s grin broadened. “But how did you know I was going to say that?”

Casey grunted. “I don’t know a damn thing about what’s in your head, but I do know a few things about men with power ... when there’s no repercussions. Makes them forget ... they have a conscience. And sooner or later ....” He lifted a shoulder and left it at that. “But how do you run from something that’s part of you? In your head?”

“I ... the triggers,” Chuck faltered, pushing his other hand further into the pocket. “There has to be a trigger to see ... well, to have the visions.”

“Like those symbols. The one in the letter.”

“Yes.” Chuck looked over at him. “So I got away. I didn’t have a ... flash until the day Liam took me.”

“The paper in my pocket. That’s what did it?”

“Yep ... looks like you got a show without the price of admission, huh?” he said, sounding disgusted. “I should warn you, that’s about the extent of my tricks.”

Casey had seen a few others, but let it rest. “Then if you were trying to avoid them, mind telling me how in the hell that happened?”

“The paper must’ve been in the stupid letters from Bryce,” Chuck said, looking away from Casey but not before he caught the kid’s blush. “The ones I never opened.”

Eh. That name again. Casey felt each muscle go rigid. “It ended with the ass, you said. He sent you the letters. How the fuck did he know?”

“Well,” Chuck began, and he deliberately attempted to take his hand back, but Casey clamped down and held on. “Ah, okay ... okay. I get it. But don’t you think you’ve heard enough to piss you off for one night?”

Casey eyed him. True, the kid had a point there. Still, he kept his fingers encircled around his wrist, having the sense the kid would get up to put some distance between them, and he wasn’t quite ready for that to happen. Even with his own brain swirling with thoughts, he wanted the feel of bare skin to his, settle him down. It was different than with any other man, the need to calm the jitters that he felt through the kid’s arm.

It confirmed, one more time, how truly fucked he was.

“Bryce. Puh,” and Casey turned his head to spit. The idiot’s name had put a bad taste in his mouth, so it wasn’t time to be delicate. “For the love of God and all that is holy, never utter the name of that little dickhead in my presence. Ever. Got that?” Casey waited until the kid nodded dumbly at him, eyebrows disappearing under his curls. “Good. Someday I wanna thank the little sack of shit properly for his efforts.”

Chuck’s eyes widened. “Uh-huh. I see. So let’s say – hypothetically – that someday we met Bryce, what exactly would I say to let you know that’s him?”

“What?”

“I mean, if I can’t say his name, is there a code? Maybe a secret hand signal?”

Casey squinted at him. “The code is ‘Go for the head shot’ and then you just need to duck your pretty eyes, muffin.” He swirled the last of the scotch in the bottle, taking a moment to enjoy the image. “Probably want to back up a few feet, too, if you’d like to keep him off your boots.”

“What?” Chuck yelped. “You’d shoot Bry-?”

“No name. Or did you really not hear what I just said?”

Chuck hunched his shoulders. “Um, him. One day if we meet him, I meant.”

“Good. Is that it? ‘Cause I’m ready to hit the sack.”

Casey watched as the kid shifted his eyes to the side, obviously debating if it was worth taking his little charade further tonight.

“I ... guess – but -”

“You didn’t just say but,” Casey gritted out.

Chuck slipped his hand out of his and shoved his fists into the coat’s pockets. “There might be one more thing – insignificant, really – but maybe you’re right. You’ve heard enough of my chatter for one night –”

Casey cut him off with a low growl. “What.”

“Wow. Patience,” the kid said and scooted his ass over a little. “Um, you see ... it’s just that ... I ... seem to have a – what is the word here? More of a bizarre kind of control over It than the others ever had .... which kinda sorta makes me more valuable to them than anyone before me – and – okay, that’s it.” Chuck slapped his hands together and started to climb to his feet. “Tired? ‘Cause I am beat –”

“Sit.” Casey took hold of his sleeve and brought him back down.

“Ow.”

“What the hell does that mean? More control?”

“You really have to do this tonight, don’t you?”

“It must do wonders for your short term memory, because I swear you were the one that just brought this up.” Besides, if he had to hear this senseless shit, he was going to get it over with in one night.

“And I’m already sorry I did,” Chuck said as he began the typical waffling, this time using the toe of his boot to push pine needles into a small pile. “So, here’s the thing. The Cipher ... well, in my circumstances, I ... have this ability to harness certain earthly elements? Ones that aren’t, well, meant to be governed.”

“English, numbnuts.”

“Okay, there was one time I made a storm happen,” Chuck let slip, and he cringed at the sound of it. “Is there any left in that bottle?”

Casey stared and slowly held it out.

“Thanks.” Holding up the bottle against the light, Chuck then helped himself to a large slurp of it – and just as instantly, a coughing fit ensued.

“Everything okay there, slugger?”

The answer was more hacking. But the kid held up a hand in case the larger man had any thoughts of pounding his back. It took him a minute to find his voice. “I’m fine – f-fine, really. It just went down the wrong pipe, I guess.”

“City boys,” Casey scoffed, narrowing his eyes at him while Chuck wiped his mouth. “A storm. You ever hear yourself talk?”

“It ... happened,” Chuck said adamantly.

“Here’s something to roll around under that mop on your head, genius: did you ever think that it was the clouds that caused the rain?” Instead of waiting for an answer, Casey relieved him of the scotch. “Not you?”

“There’s probably one detail I left off.”

“I don’t want to know it.”

“We were inside.”

Casey froze with the bottle halfway to his lips and gave him a sidelong look. “Inside. When it rained.”

“Yep. Oh, but don’t worry. It was very small. Barely a mist, actually.”

Casey dragged his eyes away from him and looked out over the black forest. Yeah, nothing to worry about, pancake. “Anything else?” he prompted as Chuck went back to piling up the dried pine needles with his boot. “Or are you done dropping cannon balls on me tonight?”

“Um, that’s ... pretty much it.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“Oh, there is it. That lovely snarky tone in your voice.” Chuck snatched the bottle from him and took a much smaller swig, mindful of what had happened a few minutes ago. “Are you sure you’re not mad at me?”

“Don’t know yet. Because I swear I just heard you say ‘pretty much’.” Casey put a hand on Chuck’s knee to get him to stop fiddling with the dirt under his boot. “As in there’s more but I really don’t want to say it?”

“I have to say, this part is going as I expected.” Chuck put a puzzled look on his face and lifted his hip so that he could reach further into the pocket. When his hand came out, he was holding the pocket watch. “Wondered where that went,” he said, turning it in his fingers. “Huh. Nice. Still working.”

“You can hold onto it. For now,” Casey felt compelled to add, because he’d have to take it away from him when they returned to Black Rock. The hand on Chuck’s knee gently steered him to the side until the kid had to meet his eyes. “What else? And yes, I hate like hell to ask, but if you’re getting it out, let’s hear it.”

Chuck carefully closed the lid on the pocket watch and tucked it back into the duster. As he sprawled out, Casey saw it was back again, that lost-hurt look on his face. Well, too bad. Right now, he just wanted to get this shit storm over with and worry about how to take care of his psycho young lover tomorrow.

“One time,” Chuck said softly, “when I was fifteen, I guess? They took me out into the countryside.”

“Was your dear old daddy there?” Casey asked, crossing one ankle over Chuck’s boot to get him to stop jiggling.

“What? Oh ... of course. He always came with us.”

“Didn’t want to get knocked out of the running for Father of the Year, eh?”

Chuck let that go with an eye roll. “Look, I don’t need to be reminded he’s an asshole.”

Casey chuckled. “Is that what the rest of this is about? Your daddy issues?”

“Not quite.” He moved closer, and now with the kid pressed to him along one side, he could feel him tense. Chuck shook his head and looked down at Casey’s hand on his knee before taking it in his. “Let’s save that for another time, shall we?”

“Fine by me,” Casey replied, the touch warming him again. “What happened ... when they took you there?”

“Hardly seems real anymore,” Chuck breathed and he scrubbed his other hand over his face. “I ... only remember that there was a red-tailed hawk in the woods. Circling over the tree tops ... in one of those perfect glides, you know?”

Casey didn’t say anything. It was easier just to wait him out.

“The wing span seemed almost as tall as me,” Chuck continued, and tightening his grip on Casey’s hand, he held the pressure long enough to make him squeeze back as an answer. “Really beautiful ....”

“So?”

“They ... I really hate this part, by the way.”

Casey grunted. “Me too.”

“Hah.” Chuck gave him a look and waited, as if this was going to get better, but finally he just sighed. “They told me I could control It,” he said, “without the trigger – the symbols?” His mouth seemed to work for a few seconds after that. But no sound came out. “That it would be okay. They said I was ready to ... well, flash. They told me to show them.”

“What did you do?”

“I had to do it,” he said. “It was the only way to get them to take me back home. So ... I gave them what they wanted.”

Casey sat up, not particularly enjoying the scared-stiff tone. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. “What was that?” he found himself asking, though, hey, it was probably all Chuck’s wild imagination. “What did they tell you to do?”

“It caught fire.” His voice was a whisper, raspy. “Midflight ... like that, it was gone.”

“Caught fire?” Casey stared at the kid like he had confessed he spent his off hours robbing banks. “The hawk ...?”

“Flames ... they devoured it.” Chuck pulled his boot out from under Casey’s and the jiggling started again. “It fell to the ground ... in the field. I saw it when it was done. Nothing but ashes.”

Casey blinked at him and shook away the image. “Ah hell,” he murmured. “They fucked you over good, didn’t they?”

Chuck turned to him and Casey could see wheels working in his head, eyebrows drawn close together. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Well, look the fuck who just road into town. Seriously, it took him that far to get to the ‘I think you’re nuts’ conclusion?

Instead of confirming the suspicion, Casey made a noncommittal noise, tossed the empty bottle off into the grass.

“It’s all right, John. Really.” Chuck used one of those long-fingered hands, running them over Casey’s bicep. “I didn’t expect you to believe me right away. I mean, to an outsider, it has to sound a bit haywire, doesn’t it?”

“You could say that.” There was no sense in lying.

Chuck paused, still touching, his hand moving down his arm to clasp Casey’s. Even in the murk, Casey could see the dark eyes of his lingering on his mouth, up to meet his gaze. “I also have to say, I kind of expected that.” He scooted off the step and kneeled in front of Casey, not letting go of his fingers. “Just ... give me a minute, okay?”

Casey straightened on the porch step, spreading his knees some since the kid had squatted between them. These circumstances weren’t exactly what Casey had in mind when he imagined it happening again. “What’re you doing, kid?” he asked, wary. “Maybe we should go back inside now.”

“No, no, no.” Chuck twined his fingers through his, still down on his haunches in front of him. “Can you ... just stay there?” Then he looked off to the side, not focusing, and that’s when Casey saw it happen again.

His eyes. Jesus, now what? They went blank and fluttery, that oddball combination of a sneeze and being trapped in an orgasm. As it was, Casey had witnessed both from the kid, so he knew firsthand what they looked like.

“What the hell are you doing?” Casey leaned forward and got down in his face. “Stop ... whatever that is – okay, Bartowski, I’m ordering you to – Christ – what?”

A pungent scent filled his nostrils, almost sweet but it burned at the same time. Casey’s eyes flared and then quickly darted down to the ground between them where Chuck had now sunk his knees into the soft earth. The kid’s eyes fluttered a few more times before he seemed to shake it off.

Casey bent forward, noticed the small pile of dry pine needles Chuck had pushed together crackled and smoldered.

Looking up at him, the kid shrugged a bit shyly. “Huh,” he said. “I guess that still works. Oh. Oops. You’re going to want to put that out.”

A few stray threads at the bottom of Casey’s jeans had caught a spark. “Shit,” he said, already smothering it with some dirt.

“Hey. Don’t catch me on fire.”

Casey noted there was humor in the kid’s voice. “Hilarious little trick, pancake.” He swung his leg to the side and wasted not another second before tamping out the small fire with his boot heel.

“Sorry,” Chuck said, watching him. “But no worries. It was small, right?”

Casey deliberately gave him the stink-eye. When he was satisfied the sparks had been choked, he tilted his head at the kid, still kneeling in front of him. “Mind telling me what the fuck that was?”

“I believe it was a fire.”

“You do know I could twist you into a knot with my pinky.”

The kid shot him a nervous smile and wrapped his fingers more tightly around Casey’s hand. “Okay, seriously, I didn’t know if it would work. I only did it the one time.”

Casey squinted at that smile. What the hell was he supposed to do with him now? “You ... with that flash thing,” he said gruffly. “The Cipher, I suppose?”

Chuck stayed absolutely still, his brown eyes reading him in ways that had Casey wanting to push him away. “Yes ... well, both of us, I guess,” the kid said, nodding, and he rocked back on his heels to stand. “I hope you believe me now. Are you ready to come in?”

“That ... was only the second time?” Casey asked, craning his neck to look up. He wasn’t ready to climb to his feet yet. Wasn’t even sure he could. “Why?”

Chuck pulled the coat tighter around his chest. “After the hawk, I told myself I would never do it again. They tried, you know. Tried to make me do it, but I wouldn’t.”

“Then why did you do it now ... tonight?”

There was a hint of sadness in his face when he let out a resigned sigh. “You,” he answered simply. “You would never believe me otherwise and I can’t say I blame you, big guy. Here. Give me your hand.”

Casey did it automatically and Chuck pulled him to his feet. Being eye to eye with the kid let him see into the clear intelligent pools, let him search for a lie.

He only saw trust reflected back at him.

“Now I’m gonna believe you,” Casey jeered. “Just like that, huh?”

“It was what I was hoping for, but I know it will take some time.” Half of Chuck’s face pulled into a lop-sided smile. “I figured ... I finally found something that made it worth breaking that vow.”

For a moment, when Casey’s gaze traveled down his body, he could tell it occurred to them both; that Chuck had just revealed a true act of devotion, faith.

No one had given him that kind of gift before.

Despite the rush, Casey eased back, studying that innocent, wide-open face. “How the hell do I know that wasn’t two horny fireflies and a splash of kerosene? Hm? Ever think of that, genius?”

Chuck frowned and surprised Casey by catching his wrist, using the grip to pull him in closer. He smiled that Casey let him do it. “Actually, fireflies can only create light – through a bioluminescent enzyme in their bodies? And kerosene is technically a fuel, which requires –”

“God, I hate this night,” Casey muttered, running his free hand through his hair.

It wasn’t the fact he was standing outside, half lit and cold. It had nothing to do with fires, or even the thing the kid insisted on calling The Cipher.

It was none of that. He told himself this was the most difficult thing he had ever done, but tonight he had to put his belief, his own trust, in the hands of a gawky ... sane kid.

“From now on, are you going to have faith in me?” Chuck asked, dragging a finger over Casey’s inner wrist.

Casey relaxed his hand. Maybe that was what the kid intended. “That’s why I’m still here, isn’t it?”

The kid gave him a crooked smile, and Casey felt the tension easing in chest.

“No, it’s not,” Chuck said.

If Casey was surprised a second ago, now his brain slammed to a halt. It happened about the time Chuck leaned forward, caught his lips before he could draw back or even form a thought. Abruptly, the kid’s clean scent was in his nose, his smooth skin against his cheek and jaw. Tasting his mouth, Casey felt a hand then slide around the back of his neck, holding him there so he couldn’t move. Not that the idea had occurred to him.

Damn if the little shit hadn’t picked up some pointers on giving a good kiss.

Casey made an approving growl in his chest because for once, his shy reticent student took the lead, kissing him softly, steadily, feeding the burning ache. Warm fingers trailed at his waist, up over his back, tracing curves of muscles that had Casey aware of every shift against his hips. He knew then that wanting him was a far different torment than wondering how to save him, because it was the one thing at this moment that Casey hungered for the most.

With a slow glide of his hand around Chuck’s narrow waist, Casey kept his mouth moving, teeth gently nipping, tongues touching, gradually taking the lead from him without realizing what he was doing.

Just as Casey took control of the movement, the kid pulled back a little, eyes just scant inches apart. It was close enough to see his face crease, and Casey knew if he averted his eyes downward, he’d catch sight of the man-killer smile. The one that would make the sun pack up its measly beams and leave with its tail between its legs.

“Holy hell,” Casey groaned, feeling the kid tighten his arm around his middle, fingers dipping lower over his backside. Need rose, and with their faces still close, his vision was dominated by eyes as dark as the forest, the night sky.

“Why you’re still here?” Chuck said and gave him a taste of that mouth again, the warm hand on his waist finding bare skin. Not breaking contact, the kid mumbled against his lips, “We both know there were a million reasons for us to be here ... way before tonight.”

-x- End Chapter Ten Sins Fell Angels-x-


	11. Chapter Eleven

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Eleven

-x-

“Do I get to watch the show, long legs, or are you going to make me close my eyes?”

“Damn!” Chuck sprang, and as he turned, he caught sight of his nearly naked lover pulling back the curtain to the sleeping alcove. “Why do you insist on sneaking around like that that?”

“Just me, cupcake,” Casey said, amusement in his voice. “Unless you were expecting someone else.”

“I thought you could be my other boyfriend,” the kid muttered, quickly turning around rather than staring.

“Bet he’s got blue balls, too, eh?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Still jumpy, aren’t you? I did say we should hit the sack. Thought you knew what I meant.”

“I’m not naïve, you know.”

“Not anymore,” Casey said under his breath.

Chuck looked past his shoulder and made a sour face. It was an accident, but his eyes traveled up, down, and finally froze somewhere in the vicinity of Casey’s undershorts. “You’re – ah - I just didn’t expect you to come barging in,” the kid said before he whirled around to face the wall. “Wearing almost nothing.”

He heard a chuckle and rustling, the curtain falling shut. “I would tell you I usually sleep in the nude, but you should remember that.”

“Can we go back to the part where you’re supposed to close your eyes?”

“Will it make you feel better?”

“Immensely.”

“Fine. My eyes are closed.”

Chuck listened. His ears picked up on more rustling. “What are you doing?”

“Putting my clothes in the pack.”

“With your eyes closed?”

The rustling paused long enough for Casey to let out a snort. “Here’s a headline for you, sport. When I was sleeping in the nude, you were with me. Except the way I recall it, we weren’t doing much sleeping. So I’ll tell you again, you don’t need to be concerned about me getting a gander of skinny ass.”

Chuck turned red. It was a given that he sounded a bit like an idiot for his modesty, but the truth was, he hadn’t intended to take things between them as far as they went today.

Shirtless, sweaty, footsies? Since when did an upstanding young man raised by his straitlaced sister let a man play Find His Wiener with his bare foot? In broad daylight? And like it?

And dear Lord it was hot.

Chuck couldn’t have looked up if he tried. His cheeks flaming, he kept his back to Casey as he unbuttoned his shirt, frowning as he thought about what led to The Incident.

For one, he was also guilty of a little bit of flirting at the mine. All right, it was more than a little. Chuck never knew he had so much as an iota of ability to actually do it, but the footsie game that led to petting that led to a pretty great kiss could be considered flirting.

Who was he kidding? That clearly crossed the line of propriety and was nowhere close – not even in the same friggin’ universe! – of staying focused while he was still in danger.

Okay, granted, the word focused in this context was code for abstinence ... and he should probably just come out and say that.

After all, Casey was smart enough to understand boundaries were necessary, right?

God, he was so screwed.

All right, think of it this way. Taking The Sirs out to play would add an entirely new level of complexity to an already tremendously screwed up situation. Wouldn’t it? And Chuck figured he really didn’t need a knotted-up ball of distraction thrown into the mix.

He should’ve kept his own desires invisible a bit longer. Of course, there was nothing he could do about that now. His choices had been limited to turning a blind eye to Casey’s inexplicable ... soft spot? ... for him, or to continue fighting him all the way.

One option would send him back to his father, while the other would get his ass kicked and then sent back to his father.

Chuck wanted to cringe at the notion of being a chink in that hard ass’s armor. The very idea made it sound like he was a puppy that Casey had found at the side of the road.

Fine. In a tiny way, if you squinted hard, it might look like that. For both of them. But they belonged to each other now. Casey had proven himself with tenderness, devotion. And sure, there might’ve been some damn good sex along the way, but it wasn’t just sex. There was a vulnerable openness that he was sure Casey had never uncovered for another man.

He was Casey’s weakness. Casey was his. He was the kind of man that stole the soul.

There’s a word for that.

Why was he thinking of this now?

Chuck shook his head at himself and stripped the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it off to the side. He heard the mattress creek, and he guessed that the larger man was getting comfortable. Other than that, it was awfully quiet back there.

Maybe he wasn’t watching. It could be that Casey was tending to his guns or something – though it was odd to think of him polishing steel in his undies.

Chuck nearly blinked at himself. You are an idiot, you know that?

Just as the kid unfastened his jeans and shimmied them down his narrow hips, the mystery of what Casey had been doing back there cleared up pretty quickly. Straightway, the hip-swiveling provoked a low and dirty whistle between Casey’s teeth.

“Thank you for respecting my privacy,” Chuck said stiffly, not taking his eyes from the log wall because he wasn’t gullible enough to turn around.

“Just enjoying the view, kid.” He heard the mattress crinkling. “And wondering how you were going to thank me.”

“Thank you?” Chuck shot a look over his shoulder. “Why?”

“If you had never met me, you’d have no clue what to do with those gangly legs I’m looking at.” He snickered when he heard Chuck suck in a breath and sputter indignantly. The flustered noise made him add under his breath, “Skinny and long ... like the rest of you.”

“I’m sure you mean my ... arms.”

Another dirty laugh. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Chuck started to turn around, but he couldn’t afford getting a glimpse of six feet plus of temptation. “Legs, then,” he grumbled, and ignored him by lifting one foot, then the other, tugging off the pants. Standing in only his undershorts, he felt cool blue eyes on his back, and it made him flush deeper. “Would you mind – I don’t know – giving me some privacy or –”

“Mm. Let me see you,” Casey said, the seductive touch in his tone making need coil in Chuck’s stomach. “Don’t turn around .... Stay like that.”

He shouldn’t listen to him, shouldn’t do as he suggested. Yet Chuck remained motionless, except for cocking his head to the side when he heard Casey get up from the bed. More than the footsteps behind him, the kid knew from the wash of heat over his back, the air electrifying, that Casey had moved in directly behind him.

“Why?” Chuck asked, hesitating. “What are you –”

“Shh ... stay.”

He only had a moment to feel bewildered until a thick forearm wrapped around the front of his waist in a possessive manner. Chuck looked down to see Casey flatten his hand against his lower stomach, sweep his fingers back and forth in a soothing gesture.

“I told you this morning,” Casey said next to his ear, lips brushing the messy curls there. “I want to check your ribs and bruises again. No matter how much you try to hide it, pancake, you’re not completely healed.”

“I’m fine, really, so -”

“Shut it.” As Casey’s large hand curved over his hip, slid up his sensitive ribcage, the kid felt his heated breath graze the back of his neck. “Lift your arm on this side.”

“I – okay,” Chuck said without thinking, and had to wet his throat. It took a moment to process it, to comprehend that Casey, nearly naked, had pulled him close to run his hands over him in an intimate way. He touched, prodded, maybe intending to keep it clinical, but it was anything but simple. Every patch of skin he skimmed over lightly seemed to send a shiver through him.

Chuck closed his eyes, doing everything he could not to respond to his hands. Very warm ... nice hands. He suddenly found his own clenched fists perspiring. His heart hammered in his chest, feeling far too exposed to this man.

“You cold?” Casey asked softly, his arm shifting, tightening a bit around his middle. The other hand found a bruise on his left side, low. The larger man pressed delicately, testing. “You’re trembling a little.”

Crap. He felt it. “No ... it’s – I’m fine.”

“This is the one ... here ... that gave you the most trouble last time.” His warm fingers traced along a rib. “Does this hurt?”

God, no. “As long as you don’t poke me or anything.”

Casey chuckled against his ear. His big hand went lower, and a few fingers traced as light as a breath along a scrape. “No promises,” he said in a murmur, and the arm around his waist drew him against his chest. “What about here?”

“Nothing hurts ... if you just take it easy with me, okay?”

Wait. He had to have said that all wrong. Chuck winced and turned his head, immediately bumped his nose on Casey’s cheek. It gave him a perfect view into the smartass grin he had just caused.

“Easy, huh?” Casey asked, and the humor in his voice made the kid hope for a hole to crawl into. But the strong hold around his middle ensured he stayed put. “I think I can handle that.”

“I meant ... oh, shut up.” Chuck straightened. Holy hell, talk about confusing. The healing part of his touch was getting all wound up with the ‘let’s take this to the mattress’ stronghold around his middle.

Casey’s hand dipped to another spot he wanted to test. “Here?”

“Ah. F-fine.” My God, that arm around him. Casey’s strong. And hot. Can’t forget that. A desert has nothing on that man when he’s got his lightly furred chest pressed to Chuck’s back.

“You heal nicely, cupcake.” Casey studied him, his eyes roaming up from his middle to his sensitive nape. “Gotta say, you’re tougher than you look.”

Chuck felt the flush start at his bare chest and gallop to his forehead. “Did I pass the test, doctor?”

Casey answered by letting his hand drop to his side. The arm around his waist, however, didn’t loosen at all. “A bit spooked tonight, though,” the larger man said against his dark waves. “I can feel it right here.” He curled a few fingers and rolled the back of them down his spine, a wash of heat over skin. “Feel that?”

Taking a step forward, Chuck slid out from his arm and turned to face him. “I do ....” He flashed an uneasy smile and rubbed his arms. “Chilly, in here I guess.”

“Could solve that by getting in bed,” Casey offered up, tilting his head at it – or the veritable viper pit of enticement, depending upon the point of view, the kid figured.

It would be easier if he didn’t look so damn good. Because, really, if God - or whoever was in charge up there - wanted Chuck to show restraint, he would not be tempting him with that. Not with a muscled chest and thick arms, a layer of chest hair that Chuck knew to be springy and soft. Everything about him was hard and smooth and not what he should be thinking about now.

God, why?

Chuck let out a breath, didn’t move. Watching Casey, standing tall and nearly naked at the end of the bed, he knew it wasn’t going to be any of those things that would make him crack.

Oh, they helped. No doubt. But it seemed everything inside him turned to smoke with his eyes. They were glittering in the dark, tranquil as a lagoon, powerful enough to suck him out to sea.

Chuck’s hands clenched, then opened, feeling inexplicably nervous. It had been like this the first time, these emotions – face it, need - pushing him off balance. “Casey, I dumped a lot on you tonight – the Cipher, my father - the little thing with the -”

“Almost catching my pants on fire?”

“Um, sorry about that.” The kid shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “Yes – that, too. Though I thought I was being careful.”

Casey gave a squint. “Your point?”

“Well,” Chuck said, aiming to shove his hands in his pockets until he remembered he wasn’t wearing pants, “do you want to, oh, I don’t know, talk or something? I mean, it’s not every day you find out the person you are ... with is considered the Fifth coming of the Keeper, right? It’s ... not your normal conversation, and actually, it’s a bit much to take in, I know. So I would understand if you want to, um – spill your guts a little?”

Casey stared long enough to make Chuck twitch. “Talk, huh?” Not taking his eyes from him, he sauntered over to put a huge hand on the bedpost. “If you think talking is the answer right now, one of us will be sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Chuck kept fumbling for a place to put his own hands. “And I suppose that one of us – namely, not you – would be waking up with a sore back tomorrow?”

“Yeah, smart boy.” Moving away from the bedpost, Casey took a seat on the bed. “I can pretty much guarantee it.”

“So that’s a ‘no’ to talking.” Chuck let out a self-conscious laugh, something else that made him cringe. “I guess that means there’s only one thing left to do.”

Casey raised a brow. Oh, crap. The kid could see his reaction perfectly, thanks to the firelight that leaked through the curtain, sending dappled splashes of orange across his face. The light also meant Casey had just a peachy view into his own embarrassment at the way that sounded.

“Glad you’re coming around to my side, tiger.” He patted the blanket. “Climb on, eh?”

Normally Chuck would’ve backed up a step, blushed furiously, or grabbed the bedpost right then, chattering about the rules he had laid out. Rules that he thought they had agreed to.

But he caught something that made him stop. It was the way Casey flicked his eyes down and to the side, lips twitching.

What was that? Chuck wondered, and then it hit him.

He knew exactly what Casey was doing. His boyfriend was messing with him.

Chuck almost let out a small laugh, an oddly satisfied sound that, for once, he had read Casey well enough to know when he was being tormented. He couldn’t help but feel relief that he was beginning to understand Casey’s rather lewd way of getting him off balance. Or on his back.

This time, two could play this little game, the kid thought. It could potentially be a bad idea to con a conman, and Casey may tan his hide for it, but he started it, didn’t he?

So Chuck put on his most guiltless face and made himself let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, I can ... climb on, I guess. But before we ... it’s like this, John. I’ve been meaning to bring up one tiny thing with you – miniscule, really.”

Casey’s expression teetered for just a millisecond. Clearly he hadn’t expected Chuck to cast innocent hopeful eyes at him. “Yeah?” He had stopped patting the blanket.

“It’s just that, it seems ... anyway, now that you know my secret, I think we need to discuss where this is ... uh, headed.”

“This?” Casey’s eyes narrowed. “Headed where?”

Huh, that confirmed it. Even a man with above average intelligence could be tossed back to the Stone Age in the face of The Commitment Talk. Despite the fact it was a chain-yanking of epic proportions, The Fake Commitment Talk.

Oh, fun.

Now there was a chance Casey was going to make certain he paid for this in very limber ways, but how could he not give him a taste of it? After all the times Casey had pretty much tortured him?

“Well, sure.” Chuck hid a grin by looking down at his feet. “I mean, now that you’re going to throw away everything to run, and we’re going to meet up in St. Louis to be together – it’s almost like we’re, well ... ” He deliberately let his voice trail as he pasted on a demure smile. “Eloping?”

“Eloohello – what?” Sitting there in all near-naked glory, Casey turned a shade of pink that had never rested on that man’s face before.

“Um, of course.” Chuck’s lashes lowered coyly. “I should warn you that when you meet my older sister, she can be a little – I guess the word here is overprotective.”

“Eh?” Casey sat up straighter.

“No. Ellie.” He should probably stop, but his smile brightened. “I know it seems odd and all, since technically, two men aren’t even allowed to get married, but Ellie isn’t going to let that stop her, you know?”

“Mar – wedded?” The utter shock in his eyes was a little more evident.

“Oh, but don’t worry.” Chuck brought up his hands in a let’s stay calm gesture. “True, she’s going to want to hear how you plan on showing your commitment to me if there can’t be a wedding. Nothing big. Honest.”

“You’re sister ... would want to talk to me ... about ... us?”

“Well, sure. Oh. I know what would make her happy.” Chuck strolled over to the side of the bed, barely ashamed of standing there only in his undies. “Maybe a very private ceremony ... somewhere? I should’ve asked before, but you wouldn’t happen to be Catholic, are you?”

Casey seemed to pale.

Chuck went on. “She’s going to want us in suits, I hate to say, and I’ve never seen you in anything but your britches and bad attitude, soooo.” He rocked back on his heels, leaving it there for him to ponder. “Oh, and rings. Silver is fine, because hey, if we get out of this alive, it will actually have some meaning, don’t you think? Silver Plume Mine?”

“Rings – as in - ?”

“She’ll want to meet your kin,” Chuck said, rambling. “You’ve never mentioned ... family of any sort? Someone who could pass as a second cousin twice removed?”

At the mention of kin, Casey seemed to be bracing himself. “That fucking thing in your head,” he said roughly, “is it making you -”

“It will probably be only my sister and auntie on my side of the aisle, because, well, I already told you about my dad.” Chuck bit down harder on his bottom lip to repress his wide grin. “So John, are you ready to have an open conversation with my slightly domineering but sweet big sister ... to share your heartfelt intentions for me?”

Casey’s jaw twitched. “My ... intentions?”

“Sure. Oh, and I almost forgot.” The kid backed up a prudent step or two, guessing he had taken it too far. “One other thing she’s going to say to you?” By the time he folded his arms over his chest, a Casey-like smirk crossed his face. “Gotcha.”

Casey, who had been doing a bang-up job of avoiding his eyes, snapped his head up to stare. “Got – the hell?”

Chuck gave him the man-blinder, a grin that had Casey’s jaw dropping. “Naturally. Isn’t that what one says when he makes his ... boyfriend seize up like the engine I fixed today? Wow, big guy. Your second cousin? You might benefit from taking it down a few notches – I mean, you were turning the color of - guph!”

The only problem with poking someone of Casey’s size was that sooner or later, he was going to use his bulk to his advantage. And take out his revenge in a more physical manner.

Getting thrown to the bed by him was like being hit by a runaway wagon, and before Chuck could stutter or save himself, the kid found himself trapped under an immovable object. Even so, he was still grinning by the time his back hit the mattress, enjoying the view of Casey’s neck turning crimson. “Uncle! I can’t breathe!” he said between laughs.

“You little ass hat,” Casey replied, trying not to laugh as he pressed harder, looking down into his face. “How in the hell did you do that without your usual jitters, eh?”

“Ah! Hey, turnabout – it’s only fair!” Chuck tried to wriggle out from under him, but Casey had him pinned down from his knees to his shoulders. “Only because I’ve seen you do it too many times to me – ah, no fair! Ribs – no tickling!”

“Yeah, well, how about this?” Casey said, wrapping his hands around his wrists, pressing them down. Now there was no chance of getting up until Casey was ready to let him up. “Didn’t say anything about biting, did you?”

“Bi – hey!” Chuck’s eyes widened as Casey lowered his face to the slope of his neck. Warm lips whispered along the side of his throat, his jaw brushing his. He moved to his shoulder, biting down, nipping, coursing over to the hollow collarbone. Pinpricks from the edge of his teeth, scraping gently over his flesh, were healed with hot breath and the tip of his tongue.

“Doesn’t hurt, does it,” Casey said in a deep burr against his neck. True, he seemed to be protecting the kid’s still-tender ribs. “When I do this ...?”

“N-no....” Chuck willed himself not to move. Struggling would be useless and out of the question, but that wasn’t the physical component he had to repress. Fight it all he wanted, but it was his body’s reaction to being restrained under Casey, the full press of him from his long legs to his broad chest. It was as if the devil was now baiting him, reminding the kid of the warm flesh and muscles that he loved to move his fingers over. The way that he could just say the word right now, and Casey would take him.

Oh. Not good.

Chuck balled up his fingers and kept still, fighting the urge to arch his hips up into Casey’s thigh. “Ah. I don’t ... I think -”

“Stop doing that, kid,” Casey said roughly, toying with the edge of his ear. “Only gets you in trouble.”

“I should point out ... this might be the epitome of trouble,” Chuck stammered. Heck, a minute ago, he had been standing harmlessly at the foot of the bed, minding his own business. Now he was trapped under Casey. Nearly naked, too, save for the thin undershorts they both wore, and if Casey had his way, those would be missing in action in about two bites from now.

The kid felt his muscles tensing, though he warned himself not to move. Not to respond. He loved it and hated it that he couldn’t, but even a flex could be very –

“Still trust me, don’t you?” Casey ran his thumb over Chuck’s inner wrist while his tongue swept up his neck to the sensitive inner ear, breath teasing him. “Gonna let me do this?”

Chuck couldn’t help tipping his head to the side, allowing access to the skin under his dark waves. When Casey grazed his lips on his beating pulse, Chuck let out a little snuffling, hungry sound that immediately made him tinge pink. “It’s not - oh. That. Right.” Casey meant kissing his neck, not other things ... and why did he suddenly feel a stab of disappointment?

“Yeah? That always did work with you, kid.” Casey chuckled faintly, and his lips passed over Chuck’s earlobe. Then he rolled it between his teeth until he worked a gasp from the kid. “Who knew brainy boys had such sensitive ears, eh?”

“N-not me.”

“Heh. What about here?” He pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Oh.” Chuck slammed his eyes shut, the rushing heat to every contact point making him want to rise into it, push his hips up. It wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this, not now, but the feel of Casey’s body protectively over him sent a sensation that went right to the root of his cock.

He relaxed his fingers, hoping he’d let him loose. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe so he could get out of bed, but it bothered him that it could be to simply let him dig his fingertips into Casey’s pecs.

“Casey, what – what are doing?” Chuck managed. Didn’t he remember that this was against the rules? Until he was free?

“Kid, if you have to ask,” Casey murmured against his skin, “you’re begging to be reminded.” He held him tightly, laid a light kiss under his ear, his neck, then shifted and brought his lips to Chuck’s bare sternum. “And if that nosy sister of yours wants to know ... what my intentions are ....” His thigh shifted, exerting some pressure so Chuck would know what they were dealing with. “Feel that, kid? You could call that my intention.”

At the feel of his lover’s stiffening erection, Chuck forced himself to maintain an even breathing pattern. He didn’t want to think about how Casey’s obvious intention was compressed against flimsy cotton undershorts. But his own cock got harder at Casey’s touch, the protective authority in his voice.

“I’m not sure she would see the humor in all of this.” And what was pressed against the front of his thigh was no joke.

“No? But you’ll have some fun, sweet cheeks,” Casey muttered against his mouth, and Chuck didn’t even realize the aroused man on top of him had released a hand until he felt a warm palm settle on his waist, sliding between them –

“John?” Chuck’s hand, now free, moved down to clamp on Casey’s hip as he willed himself to ignore the firmness against his groin. “Oh God ....”

“Eagerness,” Casey said, turning his face to skim his lips against the kid’s cheek. “I like it.”

Chuck’s fingers reflexively convulsed on Casey’s hip, his attention flicking briefly to the hollow of his throat. In this position, their mouths were close, and he saw it would be easy to kiss him. Dangerous, too, but he instinctively moved forward until their mouths met, tasted. At first surprised, Casey made a noise in his throat, then savored him with parted lips, wet straining heat. You want to, don’t you?

It was easy to get pulled into it, returning the kiss with no thought of where it would take him. Damn, the bastard knew how to do this, giving him a slow and thorough rhythm, plundering his mouth with soft movements of his tongue. To further torture him, Casey’s hips began to move and push in with each thrust in his mouth. You used to like it, kid ....

Jesus, no man should be that goddamned sexy.

Maybe he shouldn’t have started this.

Chuck lifted his hips in reaction to it, his cock hardening, pushing up insistently before he could stop it. Because he should be stopping it. He kept repeating that he couldn’t lose himself in this, but hell, Casey was making it impossibly hard.

Crap. He didn’t mean that.

Mortified, the kid realized that Casey interpreted the spontaneous shift of Chuck’s hip against his groin as assent. Pulling back, Casey ended the kiss by letting out a breath, and Chuck felt his knees get kicked out wider. Sturdy fingers moved to the outside of his undershorts, cupped him over the stretched fabric before moving on to splay a hand under his buttock. “Yeah, good thinking, kid. I like that little move you did .... You need me to find out if you still have a tight little ass ....?”

Chuck jerked up before trying to retain his sanity. That little voice in his head, droning hostage ... prisoner ... really needed to shut up.

Okay, okay. Hang on. How could he be so reckless? Hadn’t he just said he wouldn’t do this? God, even Casey admitted that no matter what had happened between them in the past twenty-four hours, his status as Black Rock’s captive was not changing until he was delivered to his dad.

“Brown eyes,” Casey said, interrupting him from his thoughts, “if you keep your ass cheeks that tight, you might pinch off something we both plan on using a lot in the future. And by that, I mean a hell of a lot.”

“Oh no,” Chuck mumbled. Instead of loosening the part of his body where Casey had slipped his hand, a quiver ran through his muscles. He swallowed hard and removed his own sweaty palm from low on Casey’s thigh, briefly wondering when that happened. “Casey, we have to talk.”

“Ah, fuck.” Casey stopped to give a rough drag down his thigh before he moved the palm under him to one of his ass cheeks. “Whatever you think you need to say right now, princess, I know I don’t need to hear it.”

“I can’t.”

Casey slowly lifted his head to arch a brow at him, and Chuck caught it; the icy-eyed promise of retribution for this little stunt. After a harrowing pause, the long fingers that had been idly caressing his side stilled.

“Tell me you mean something else,” Casey growled, “and not what I think you meant.”

“No ... sorry. I am, really.” Chuck took a deep breath and looked off to the side. “I should’ve ... stopped you sooner. But I was ... okay, fine: liking it too much.”

Casey closed his eyes and let out a small string of colorful swears under his breath. Gaelic crept in, for which Chuck was thankful, because he didn’t need to know how many ways Casey wanted to bend him like a horseshoe right now.

“Um, are you done?”

No, apparently not, so the kid waited patiently while Casey ground out a few more things he’d like to do. Chuck wanted to point out half of them were physically impossible since he was gifted with the Cipher and not double-jointedness, but he decided now would not be the time to quibble.

“Feel any better?”

Casey glared down at him.

“All right, stupid question, I guess?” Chuck looked up, flashed a stilted smile, and put a hand in the center of Casey’s chest. God, he wanted to leave it there and play with the springy layer of hair, touch his nipples, but he couldn’t. “I said I was sorry. So are you going to get off?”

“I thought that’s where we were headed, kid.”

“What?”

“God, skip it,” he grumbled. Then, more softly, his hand gentled the side of his neck, thumb stroking under his ear. “Christ. Never have seen a kid as stubborn as you. You’re going to be the death of me.”

“It’s not ... what I want either, but I think you know why.”  
“Yeah, but I have half a mind to take you over my damn knee for that.” Casey rolled his eyes at Chuck’s alarmed look and glanced down at his hand on Chuck’s neck. “You do know, kid, this only gives me more time to think of a suitable punishment for this trick.”

“It wasn’t a trick. I didn’t mean to. Promise.”

“And I promise you’ll get a proper reprimand,” Casey answered, sliding a hand over his outer thigh.

“I’ll consider myself duly warned then.” But seeing a gleam of exasperated humor in his eyes, Chuck gave him a real smile this time. “When we get out of this, well, do your worst, Mister.”

“Really.” Casey sounded interested, and suddenly his eyes became sharp and direct. “Because I have a pretty vivid imagination, puppy.”

Chuck told himself he was only playing with him again, but when he registered the engrossed expression, he had to wonder why he had just blurted out some foolish challenge. In fact, the kid swore that the rock hard bulge pressed to his abdomen seemed to like the idea. “You are joking, right?”

As an answer, the kid felt his knees nudged further apart. At first, Chuck tensed – what the hell was he doing? – but when he looked up at Casey with a startled expression, he got an eyeful of a wry smirk.

“Nervous?” Casey turned his hand to enclose his wrist one more time, a quick pulse before he let go. “Because I don’t joke about ... disciplining you, muffin.”

An uh-oh pinged his brain. In a moment of rationality, Chuck told himself he should save that uneasiness for later, because didn’t he have other things to worry about right now? Besides, Casey would certainly forget this little event by the time they met up in St. Louis.

Though, now that he thought about it, Casey was most definitely not the forgetful type.

But despite the worry, Chuck’s cock was as stiff as it had ever been. Why in the hell was the thought of this a turn-on?

“Are you getting off of me now?” he asked, shifting his legs and hoping Casey wouldn’t notice his dick was still interested in pursuing Plan A. Yeah, right. “I’ve been reminded that you’re not exactly the, uh, lightest person.”

Satisfied with an apparent pact that Chuck still couldn’t figure out, Casey grunted and started to get up on his elbows. But when he thought Casey couldn’t surprise him by anything else he said or did, he went ahead and did it anyway.

Lowering his head, he brushed his lips over his, gentle, not asking anymore. Just a kiss. As his mouth was thoroughly explored, Chuck knew he couldn’t touch him. It would only restart the same string of events, and he had to stop that from happening. He forced himself to keep his arms on the mattress, bent with his fingers half-curled and palms up, the suggestion of full surrender.

Casey moved his hips, a slow, dragging stroke, rubbing his cock against Chuck’s like a brutal reminder of what he gave up, and paused to sink his teeth lightly into the meat of his shoulder.

And then he rolled off him and stared up at the ceiling, scrubbed a hand over his cheek. “Humph.”

Chuck, finally able to move again, rolled over on his side to face him. He rose on one elbow to study his lover’s profile. “You’re ... smiling. What’s so funny?”

“Not smiling,” Casey replied, and went back to smiling to himself.

“Is that so?” Chuck wrinkled his brow and moved his face in closer. The waning fire on the other side of the curtain was making it more difficult to see him. “Because it looks like you are.”

Casey tucked a hand under his head. “Just that ... I know of a private little hotel outside of St. Louis,” he explained wistfully. “You’ll like it. It’s out in the country, nothing but farms.” A smart aleck grin crossed his face, and he turned to him and dragged a hand over one of his legs. “No one will be able to hear those sounds you like to make, pumpkin.”

“Hilarious.” Chuck avoided looking at him, and he definitely felt embarrassment light up his cheeks. Not quite vindicated, he grabbed the pillow and playfully smacked Casey over the face with it. “And I don’t make sounds.”

“Eh. Give me that.” Casey ripped the pillow from his hands and stuffed it under his head. “The hell you don’t. And if you don’t believe me, it wouldn’t be any trouble at all to work a demonstration out of you -”

“Wow, thanks, but that’s quite all right.” Chuck rose up from his elbow and lifted a hand. “Besides, aren’t you making an assumption that I would even allow you to take me to a hotel?” Heck yes, he would, but it was fun to watch Casey’s face. “You know my sister wouldn’t approve of your nefarious intentions.”

Casey moved his gaze from the ceiling to the kid and lifted a brow. “So in this grand plan of yours, your intention was to use me for sex that one time, and then you’re done with me?”

Laughing, Chuck started to agree, but the first shot with the pillow was a direct hit to the head. And in typical Casey fashion, now that he had his prey stunned, he used the pillow as a net to haul Chuck down between his arms.

“Ow! I give up!” Chuck immediately had to put his arms up to protect his head, but with more pressure and an adjustment from Casey, they were trapped under the pillow. “Hey! I said I give up!”

“Little shithead,” Casey muttered, bringing a hand down to his stomach and clamping his fingertips in, which only made Chuck laugh harder. “Yeah, you’ll be giving it up, all right.”

“Jerk! Not what I said! Ow, tickling!”

“Stop trying to slap me, then, and get in here.”

Maybe Chuck looked momentarily concerned, but it only took a hand on his arm and an insistent pull to know what Casey proposed. When his boyfriend turned him on his other side, touching him as if he owned him, pressing his chest to Chuck’s back, the kid found a deliciously snug place perfectly spooned to his lover.

“Just as warm as I remember ... right here,” Chuck said, feeling a large hand land on his waist from behind, dipping down to settle on his hip. He shifted backwards until there was firm flesh and the tickle of hair along his spine. “Stay like that, okay?” the kid ordered in a sleepy mumble. “I like this ....”

“Anything else I can do to service you, tonight, princess?”

“Do you really think I’m going to walk into that trap?”

“Speaking of traps, you should shut yours.” To emphasize his point, Casey nudged his hips forward into Chuck’s backside. “Unless you wanna change your mind.”

“Nice try.”

“Go to sleep,” Casey answered wearily, fingers digging into his hip.

Well, that shouldn’t be too difficult. Every part of him was strung out and plumb exhausted after the shit storm he had been through. Falling into a deep slumber with his protective boyfriend wrapped around him should be a snap.

Except for one rather prominent thing that was stopping him, and that would be his lover’s erection impeccably positioned against the back of his undershorts. Did Casey really expect him to be able to sleep with a rod of steel pressed against a place that was decidedly off limits? For now, anyway.

Theoretically what they were doing was not verboten, Chuck conceded. Sleeping together. So what? As long as it didn’t go any further, they were fine.

Or as long as no one moved a muscle all night long. That too, of course.

There was another problem. His own ache, surging up in the playful wrestling match, was so alarmingly intense that he should pull away.

Really, he should suffer through this.

Chuck adjusted his leg, not aware that he had pressed his buttocks backwards against him. Dang it. He swore he had meant to move forward. Knowing he was an idiot, he fought the urge not to move for about ten seconds, until on impulse he shifted his hips. Casey’s cock, capable of giving him so much pleasure, somehow seemed to harden a bit more at the friction, flexing against his ass.

“Oh ... hell ....” Casey inhaled sharply and let it go. Chuck felt him raise his hand to smooth a few unruly dark locks, apparently guilty of tickling his nose. When Casey dragged his hand back down, he slid it under his, flattened his palm on Chuck’s stomach and pressed his thighs inward.

“Only ... touching, isn’t it kid?” Casey said, low-pitched in his ear, “and God knows, we’ve done plenty of that today.”

Chuck took his hand that had settled on his lower belly, but instead of moving it, he brushed his fingertips over Casey’s knuckles. “Well, you do make a good point. I don’t think this breaks any rules ... necessarily?”

“Yeah? What about this?” Casey arched his hips into him in response to the kid’s reflexive pushing. “That legal?”

“I – I don’t know. Maybe ... you better do it again and I’ll let you - oh. No rules broken there.”

“And here’s another one.” Casey got up on one elbow to look down at him. “If you shove your skinny little ass against me one more time like that with no plan of finishing the job, in about two whoops and a holler, I’ll have you begging to have me bend you over. Your rules be-damned. Got that, kid?”

“Um ... two whoops?” Chuck slanted his head to study the angles of that sculpted face, the last streaks of firelight flickering over his profile. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I should’ve ... well ....” He cleared his throat and twined his fingers around Casey’s hand, leaving it on the bare skin of his belly. “But what if ... I do plan on ... finishing the job? Touching – is that okay?”

The reaction was instant, and gratifying. Casey took control of the grip and used it to rub back and forth over his stomach. “I could be ... talked into it, I suppose.” Lowering his lips to Chuck’s ear, he nuzzled, then moved over to kiss his temple. “Let me take care of you,” he coaxed. “Lean back on me.”

The way he spoke against his ear did it. That was enough for Chuck to close his mouth and do as he was told. Why point out that leaning back on him would essentially ensure that he took care of Casey at the same time? In all fairness, Chuck was pretty certain Casey knew that.

Pushing back into hard muscle, the kid wriggled gingerly into Casey and was rewarded with a low growl of appreciation. Casey’s dick slid along a butt cheek, up and down, while the larger man found the side of his throat, nipped.

“Yeah ... like that,” Casey said, giving him another long drag. It made Chuck wonder if those undershorts were made of iron, because they should’ve been punctured by now. “You want it ..?”

There was no way he could say it. But put that way, Chuck clung to Casey’s hand and shifted until Casey’s cock was trapped against his ass. As he wedged up to him, the kid felt a spear of heat go straight to his stomach, and to his embarrassment, he thickened and grew at just the touch of him there. Knowing that’s what he wanted, Chuck moved his hips slightly side to side, rubbing over the large bulge, eliciting a groan.

“Mm. Thinking about it, aren’t you?” Casey said. “That’s good. I want you thinking about me.” Taking another ride over his ass, Casey kissed him beneath the ear. “Really hard.”

“Not ... a problem at the m-moment.” If he thought about it any harder, the undershorts would go up in flames. “Here ... I can ....” Instead of trying to explain, Chuck let his body speak for him. Curving his hand around Casey’s, he pressed back into his erection, pushing against the restraint of fabric.

“Yeah ... do that again, kid.” Rubbing him felt almost as good as getting it, so the kid shifted his buttocks again. There. At the push, Casey wasted no time pressing back into him. “Good boy.”

If Casey would only bring his hand down a little, Chuck would be happy to prove he was far from a boy. He did expect a reciprocal touch, but one thing he had learned about his lover was that he seemed to be unpredictable, so the kid wasn’t too surprised when Casey twisted his hand free.

“What – what are you doing?” Chuck inclined his head to peer back at him. Somewhat shamefaced, he realized his hips kept moving, just slightly side to side, raking over Casey’s stiff cock. “You ... let go?”

“I’m going to help you,” Casey answered with a quiet grunt of pleasure. Moving his grip to Chuck’s hipbone, he dug in with his fingers and steered the kid’s ass over his dick with more pressure than Chuck dared to use. “Yeah .... feel that? Keep doing it like that ....”

“Casey, I –” God, it felt wonderful, but he didn’t want to come like this. Just by Casey dragging his dick over him? There was more, right?

“Still going to have to punish you for this, brown eyes,” Casey said, his stubble scratchy against the side of his neck.

“Punish?”

“Mm. You’ll want it, though,” and Casey gave him a forceful prod. “Remember that. Harder, kid .... Good ....”

Chuck closed his eyes. Harder. Okay. “Casey ....”

“Yeah, I like it when you listen, too.” Clamping down tight over his hip, a spasmodic clutch of Casey’s hands told Chuck a particular drag gave him pleasure. “Doesn’t happen that often, eh?”

“Hey ... I did – oh -”

“Keep going,” Casey encouraged against his temple. Steering Chuck’s ass back and forth, Casey met every move by scraping his dick over the back of Chuck’s undershorts. “You are a quick learner ... I remember that about you ....”

“John, this is -”

“Good at fixing things, too, aren’t you, cupcake,” he breathed against his hair. “Maybe you could ... take a look at this?” As he said it, Casey bucked inward, reminding Chuck that he could be a big bastard without really trying. “Work some of that magic between your ears, eh?”

“Um – I don’t think Cipher operates like -”

“Unless you’ve got your own problem, kid?”

If Casey would only move his hand down – please? - instead of torturing him, maybe he’d know the extent of the problem. Stubbornly, or perhaps as a preview of this upcoming punishment that Chuck shouldn’t think about, he kept his hand on hip, directing his ass back and forth over him. “Casey.” Put your hand on me.

God, he couldn’t say it.

Casey didn’t change the course of his fingers, kept them clenched, guiding him back ... controlling every movement, stroking his length over him -

“You still thinking about it?” Casey whispered, leaning in to caress his jaw with his mouth. “Sliding my cock into your tight ass ... you’d take it right now, wouldn’t you?”

Hearing the words, his lips brushing over him, Chuck was immediately caught in a half-shudder, half-squirm. “John, I –”

“Shit ... yeah.” Casey’s hips jerked in answer to the little squirm he had caused. “You want to come back, don’t you? Feel that? This is what you’ll get when you’re ready ....”

Feel it? Geez. The kid would not be surprised if there were red marks on his ass tomorrow morning. Or tiny bruises where his fingers dug in to steer the movements Casey wanted to feel, forceful, commanding.

The kid had no idea why it didn’t hurt, but by no means was there pain. The opposite, in fact. Casey knew his own power and would never exert it completely with him. As if he could make him do his bidding with simple stimulation, pouring out pleasure with barely anything at all.

“Jesus ... John ....” Already Chuck’s nerve endings never felt so sensitive. Maybe it was the circumstances, the relinquishment of his trust, revealing something so deep it felt at once like a hole inside him that Casey would fill.

Good thing he didn’t say that out loud.

But this teasing of his? It was a far different torment than the first time – Chuck’s cold fear, the blindfold, taken to satiation and exhaustion by a man who still scared him at times. This was a rough male response to wanting to fuck, wanting to be fucked, yet knowing it wouldn’t get that far.

“Other things I could do.” Casey’s voice was thick, and he pressed in, his lips sweeping over his shoulder. “Remember when I sucked you off? How much you liked it?”

Chuck raised his head and turned in order for Casey to see the shake – no. Not hard to read him, he figured. No, we can’t.

Casey slowed, thighs flexing in, back. “God, I’m gonna have some fun with you when we get out of this.”

“Uh, fun? Because ... the way you say it, it sounds more like -”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He shifted and gave him a few more of those long drags, his dick nestled into the cleft of his ass. “There? Come back again ....”

Casey moved his touch from Chuck’s hip to his lower abdomen, and a deep breath left the kid. He would touch him now, wouldn’t he? Maybe start by running his palm slowly down him, fingers pressing just enough, drawing lower -

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?” Casey asked, his hand splaying over Chuck’s flat stomach. The incredible terrain of curved muscle behind him kept the slow movements pumping against his ass. “Not just that ... other ways you can get off ... for now. Like wanting me to use my hand ... but you’re too shy to ask for it, is that it?”

“Casey ....” Chuck suppressed a little moan, his body rocking, slow and even, back into him because if felt too good to stop. “Will you ....”

“What are you thinking? Why don’t you say it?” Casey’s teeth latched onto his throat, and Chuck shuddered. “This? Getting fucked hard?”

“God ... no....” Hell, yes. Chuck took a deep breath, and when Casey rubbed against his ass, he returned it to him. Pressed a bit harder. Chuck wasn’t exactly a weakling, and feeling the extra effort, Casey made an approving noise deep in his chest. His damn hand, though, stayed on Chuck’s stomach, pushing him in, loosening enough for Chuck arc forward.

Was he really going to make him suffer?

“Casey ... you asshole.”

“Heh. Not yet.” Casey slid a warm palm up his chest to Chuck’s jaw, turned his face to him. Before Chuck could ask, Casey’s tongue slid into his mouth and began doing what his cock would be doing if the kid let him. Every thrust into his backside was synchronized with a delving of his tongue.

If Chuck’s mouth wasn’t busy, he’d ask him if this was really part of the punishment. Not the kissing. But how hard would it be to put his hand there?

But Casey was not in the mood to be merciful. He tightened his arm around Chuck and ended the kiss – or more appropriately, mouth fucking – as quickly as he had snatched it. His hand fell to Chuck’s middle, clinching. “Get on your other side,” he said hoarsely. “Turn around to face me.”

“What – why?” Yes, he sounded stupid, but that was Casey’s fault. His brain was still sloshing around from the invasion of his tongue.

Casey rolled his eyes and used the hold to flip Chuck around. “Here. Like this.”

No protest could come fast enough before he found himself flat on his back. Not exactly sure how he did that so fast, Chuck blinked up at Casey, and suddenly felt his face get hot. Only because the taut fabric of his undershorts was doing barely a thing to hold him back.

“That’s your fault,” Chuck let slip, trying to cover the embarrassing bulge by crossing his wrists in front.

“Damn well better be.” Casey reached down, took hold of his wrists in one hand, and tugged them out of the way. Then he grinned down at him and said, “Holy Christ. I was right. You do have a problem.”

“Hah.” Chuck shifted and tried to be cool, but it was impossible with Casey’s focus traveling over him. “I think you proved today you don’t know your way around hand tools.”

“Not that kind,” Casey agreed smugly, his hand following the path of his gaze. As the kid stayed still, he felt the slow glide of Casey’s fingers down the center of his chest, his belly, and then a caress as Casey drew small circles over his lower abdomen. “But this kind ... I might be able to help you with that.”

“You ... did show some promise today ... besides the time you handed me the wrong pliers?”

Casey chuckled. “Turn to face me. On your side, kid.”

The larger man didn’t help him move that time, making the message transparent. If Chuck was willing, he would have to get into position as a way to say yes. I want it. Want you.

Chuck gave him a look of wary speculation, but his own urges had him turning without much more thought. “You’re a little bossy. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not to my face.” Casey turned over on his side, and now they faced each other in the darkness. “Better.”

“Er, hi?” Chuck said, and smiled a little timidly. He knew it sounded moronic, but a pair of blue eyes was about six inches away and gleaming with hungry mischief, so he figured Casey wouldn’t be paying attention to his prattle anyway. “I’m here.”

“Didn’t expect you would run,” Casey replied, his eyes locked on the kid’s. “Not with this holding you back.”

Oh, God. Finally.

Chuck swallowed at the touch of Casey’s hand on his cock, stroking him over the stretched cotton. In spite of the confines, his fingers circled around him the best they could, giving a slow ride up and down his length.

“That what you wanted, pancake?”

“Oh ... you bastard – mm,” Chuck managed, biting down on his lips.

“You’ll have to get way dirtier than that, kid,” he heard Casey say, cupping him. “Nice to have a hand on there that isn’t yours, eh?”

The kid wanted to point out that he didn’t do that – well, not much – but when Casey used his entire hand to glide over him, any thoughts dissolved in a ball of smoke. His fists become knots, reflecting what was happening in his gut. The pressure and stimulation made Chuck stretch, automatically shoving his hips up to meet each stroke of that big hand. “Casey ... can you -”

“Is that it, kid?” Casey asked, his tone soft and husky, with a slight catch at the end. “Or do you want something else?”

Chuck shook his head, not willing to blurt out something so intimate. Rather, he dug his fingers into Casey’s chest, letting his hand follow the slope of it, down to his tapering stomach. Even while he touched him, the kid kept thrusting slowly, rocking forward into the insistent grip. “Jesus, Casey ... so good.”

“It can be better,” and Chuck felt the hand on his cock suddenly disappear.

Chuck’s eyes flew open to gape at him. “What ... the hell? Why did you – okay, you know what? That’s not better!”

“No?”

“No!” Chuck’s jaw fell. “You know, sometimes I wish I could kick your ass for teasing me like that. But I won’t, because it would end up in humiliation. Namely, mine!”

Casey snorted. “Not teasing, kid. Thought you might want to get rid of these.”

“What – ah.” Fingers slid under the waistband, and Chuck’s pesky undershorts came down to his lower thighs in one long drag.

“Lift the other side,” Casey urged quietly when they got stuck on his hip. He didn’t stop tugging until the kid’s cock sprung free. “See? I told you. Better.”

“Not unless you remember what to do with your hand tools,” Chuck mumbled.

“Now who’s being a bossy little shit?” Taking the hint, however, he started stroking again. Chuck sucked in his breath, coming so close already, and then cursed when Casey moved his hand from him.

Did he really just move his freaking hand away? Again?!

The kid started to open his mouth to complain, until he felt the pad of Casey’s thumb swirling over the crown, smearing a little pre-come over the tip.

“You’re wet, kid,” he said, bumping his nose to Chuck’s. “You know what I like about that?” As he spoke, he kept moving his thumb, one loop ...two, tracing the edge. “Hm?”

“Casey ....” Chuck had his grip clamped on Casey’s bicep, but that wasn’t going to stop him from falling over the edge if he kept doing that. “God ... n-no.”

“Well, I’ll show you.” His thumb made another slow lap around the crown, over the slit, and then Casey brought it up to his mouth. Pinning his eyes to Chuck’s to ensure he was watching, he slipped it between his lips and sucked the wetness off thoughtfully. “Bet you’ve never done that, have you?”

“Oh shit.” To see his lover lick his thumb in that way only made Chuck think of all the places his mouth had been. The picture dominating his mind was the first time, when Casey had licked and sucked him against a fence post. “John ... not fair.”

Casey’s eyes lingered on him, and he seemed to ruminate as he brought his hand back down. “One thing about you, cupcake,” he said, leaning in to put his lips close to his ear. “You still taste a little too innocent.” His hand dropped between them, letting the kid sink into his touch before Casey paused to fondle Chuck’s balls. “I’m going to have to do something about that.”

“You’re going ... to do what?” Chuck said, his breath rasping.

“Hold onto my shoulder – yeah, like that.” When Chuck did, Casey drew his hand lower, making it easy to slide a finger into the clenched pucker of his hole, teasing him. “Fuck, kid, you are tight. It’d be nice to do something about that, too ... though, I like you that way.”

Chuck’s eyes sprung open and he bucked forward at the probing touch. “Casey, you know I can’t –”

“Won’t, tiger. There’s a difference.” He withdrew and settled his hand on Chuck’s cock. “But don’t worry. I’ll remind you when we get to St. Louis why that was a shitty idea.”

At the next stroke, Chuck squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging into the meat of Casey’s shoulders. “You ... son of a bitch ....”

“Nice effort, but I need it a little dirtier, kid.” Then Casey shut him up by kissing the protest from his lips, raw and hard. While he let the kid get a small taste of himself, Casey wrapped his arm around Chuck’s waist, bringing him close enough to touch in front. His dick, still trapped in the shorts, was an iron bar pressing against Chuck’s. “Feel that?”

“It’s - ah – technically, I’d have to be dead not to -”

“And if you weren’t one hand stroke away from spurting, I’d spend a little more time showing you what you missed tonight, eh?” His voice got throaty, and he pressed closer. “But since we’re fixing things tonight, I’ll take care of you.” By the time his brain engaged, Casey had his cock out and took both of them in that enormous paw of his. “Starting with this.”

“Casey ... God.” Chuck choked on his reaction, already rocking with every move of that hand. He didn’t need to think what to do. His body knew.

Chuck bent his head to watch, trying not to think about why he had to see it. But he did. It was a tight hold, and he tried to focus on the head of his cock being massaged between Casey’s dick and his hand.

It felt fantastic, all of it. Casey was performing long, slow, glides, his thick fingers moving up, down. The grinding, the pleasure, the kid couldn’t contain his response. It was crazy that he was rubbing his cock against something hard enough to break his in half.

Except that was really was crazy, because Casey wouldn’t let it happen. His lover seemed to have a penchant for that piece of his anatomy, so he was certain his manhood was safe from harm where it was.

“Too good to hurt, isn’t it?” Great, now Casey was being a mind reader, but the kid knew he had to be almost transparent by now. “Yeah, you’re well hung for a city boy. Did that thing in your head give you that, too, or was that just dumb luck?”

“Uh ... It ... doesn’t ... work like that!”

“Would it work if I were sucking you off right now?” Casey asked, eyes locked on his face, the stroking hand not stopping. “Yeah ... I’d love to be doing that ....”

“John, please –”

“Heh.” Casey smiled over at him, never letting up, just thrusting his hips, sliding his stiff cock along his. “Or nail you from behind, over the side of the bed? Fuck that sweet, tight ass of yours. You did keep it tight for me ... didn’t you?”

He was tormenting him again, since Casey knew damn well there was no one else. Yet the larger man leaned in, took his lips in a kiss and growled into his mouth, “Answer, kid. Not letting you until you tell me ....”

His voice, when it’s like that? Rough and low and giving demands? Well, he knew Casey would hold him on the brink until Chuck attempted to answer.

Chuck managed to blink over at him and shook his head. It was the only answer he could give.

“Yeah? Keeping your hole practically virgin for me ...?”

“Go to h-hell.”

“Just giving you the sharp stick, kid.” He was relieved to see Casey point an easy grin at him, running his knuckles along his cock. “Means teasing. But you like this kind better, don’t you?”

“Mm ... jerk.” The friction was making his brain melt. Maybe that was Casey’s way of getting rid of the pesky thing up there neither of them wanted.

When Chuck lifted his hips to him, the bed began to rattle on the frame, rhythmically knocking the wall. But there was Casey’s stiff cock rubbing along his, a hand doing incredible things, and Chuck didn’t care about the racket they were making. Only that his legs were trembling and his face was on fire ... and he really had to come.

Casey kept talking, his low voice filling him. “Yeah, if I remember, you almost stopped being skittish about being fucked. You seemed to like it, feeling my cock in your ass. Having me teach you where the parts were ... while you tried to hump the blankets ....”

“Casey ... no ....” But he remembered it, all of it. The images were all around him, and in his ear was Casey’s voice, straight ahead those brilliant blue eyes. “God.”

“Feels good, jerking off between my fingers? But you wanted to be fucked, is that right?” Casey’s big fist dropped to roll his aching balls in his palm. Satisfied when the kid bucked into him, he took both of their cocks in the perfect O of thick fingers, fisting and pumping both of their dicks. “Yeah?”

“G-god,” Chuck groaned.

Casey’s length, riding up and down him, had the miraculous give and yet firmness of a man’s flesh and blood. “Too bad for those rules of yours, hot stuff. Out here on our own, we could’ve had some fun, hm?”

Chuck whimpered and pushed into him, hoping that might shut him up. He was sure he was going to die if he didn’t come. He was so close.

“After I’ve fucked you,” Casey continued in his deep rumble, bending forward to brush his lips to his ear, “maybe I’d let you suck me. You seemed to love that, too. Going down on me ... licking my shaft ... running your tongue along my cock? Did you like that, Chuck?”

“Let – let me ...? You ... arrogant bastar – gah.” When Chuck swore softly, Casey gave him a little pat on the cheek with the hand that wasn’t busy.

“Easy, kid,” he whispered, smiling at the semi-coherent response. “You haven’t seen ‘bastard’ yet. I’m saving that for later.” He slid his grip over their velvet shafts, his thumb playing with the throbbing vein on Chuck’s underside. Oh, God, he was dragging them to the finish line. “You were getting better at fucking, too – showed a lot of promise, kid. Bit more practice, and I’ll let you drop on all fours for me anytime you’d like.”

“Damn you ....” Chuck had to squeeze his eyes shut; all of it was swamping him, ready to pull him under.

“So when you’re ready to put those rules aside, sport? I’ll keep it easy that first time. No matter how much you beg me to give it to you harder, I won’t do it. Just easy ... like this.”

Chuck moaned, the jerking tempo taking over every nerve, every muscle. “Casey, I’m -”

“Yeah, you’ll still love it ... won’t you?” It was obvious Casey wasn’t going to get an answer, so he kept talking over the quick rush of breath. “With my hand on your cock? You’ll ask for that, too, when you go for that first ride ....”

“I’m not going to -”

“Shhh. More crazy talk, eh? You ready?” Bending over him, he put his mouth on Chuck’s ear, murmured sweet urgings. “You can come now, brown eyes ....”

Oh. Nothing like Casey’s lewd, sweaty permission to put a spark in his lower belly.

That was going to be it. As Chuck bumped forward into his hand, he was done fighting. His head slightly bowed, his jaw tense, the kid became trapped by his orgasm. He stilled his body, trembling as liquid heat spurted against his stomach, dribbled over Casey’s fist. Tantric pleasure, goaded by the urgency of abstinence, overwhelmed every inch of his body.

“Yes. Shit, yes,” Chuck gasped, his world turning over.

Casey leaned over and kissed him, a wet and dirty one. He gave a few more lazy pumps, slowly let him go. Somewhere in the haze, Chuck saw that Casey’s thick cock was still between them, still rock hard.

After a half minute passed, Casey gave the kid a wry smile. “You listened for once, eh?”

Chuck swallowed, not ready to make words. As the shudders drew to a halt, he found a large hand moving up to his shoulder, and before he could protest, Casey pushed him onto his back.

“Yeah, you got yours ....” Casey said, and he climbed up on his knees to loom over him, taking his own cock in his hand. “Stay there.”

The kid gave him a questioning look between gasps, because really, he couldn’t move if he wanted to. He watched through half-lidded eyes, wondering what Casey had in mind.

“Ready for my turn, kid.” Standing on his knees and gazing down at him, it suddenly became clear what he intended to do with his turn. Casey straddled him at the hips, rubbing his dick with long, hard glides. “Love to give you some of this. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, his breath ragged.

Chuck couldn’t respond. He could only watch as Casey rocked back and forth, looking straight into his eyes.

Then lower.

Jesus, Casey was big. Having Casey’s cock sliding between his fingers, so close to his face, was a bit intimidating. Despite his embarrassment, Chuck tilted his hips up to him. “Yes ....”

“There you are. Yeah, you do want some.”

If this was punishment, he would take it. “You can let it go,” Chuck breathed, clutching the sheets, quivering as much as Casey. “It’s okay....”

Casey bit down on his bottom lip, his hands jerking faster before slowing down, beginning to get caught in the throes of his own orgasm. “So fucking hungry for you,” he muttered. “Christ ....”

His arm muscles, taut as banded steel, moved and rolled as he gave a few more little thrusts over him. Then he closed his eyes and groaned out his approval at Chuck’s willingness to let Casey come on his belly, his chest.

It was submission, and yet an exercise in control all at once. The desire to serve his pleasure but prove he could do as he wanted was just another ball of confusion that the kid pushed to the back of his mind. Thinking about those tendencies would only interfere with watching Casey, and why mess up something so perfect?

“Fuck ....” The guttural curse came as hot spunk spurted over Chuck’s flat stomach, and another shot pulsed on his chest. When he looked up at his lover, he saw that Casey had his head tipped back, still slowly pumping until that hard cock gave every drop of semen. “Yeah, that’s it, kid ... don’t move ...”

Now that Chuck had come and the world stopped wobbling, he had to blush at what he had just witnessed. Heck. He should really put his hands somewhere – not there – but just to let him know he was grateful that their bodies could stop begging.

It took a minute, with Chuck staring up at the beautiful man over him, for Casey to catch his breath. When he did, the kid hesitated before his fingers stroked the light hair over his muscular thigh. “That was pretty devious, you know. Was that your plan to keep the sheets clean, since we will be sleeping in them?”

Casey grunted huskily and latched onto his wrist. “Thought you might like it,” he said, and peering down, he gave a slow grin, unapologetic. “But if you would’ve listened to any of my other suggestions, button, you wouldn’t have that little problem.”

Chuck blushed harder, but couldn’t bring himself deny it. He angled his head down to survey the sticky problem in question.

An idea struck.

A brave yet slightly filthy idea.

Why not? Casey had done it. Lowering his hand, he deliberately and provocatively brought two fingers down to his belly and swirled them in Casey’s come. He then glanced up. Just as he thought, the move had Casey’s full attention.

“There’s a ... problem?” and with his dark eyes pointed up, he popped his finger in his mouth. Musky, masculine, everything Casey was. He made a show of sucking it off, enjoying the way Casey’s blue eyes bored into him while he did it.

“Like the way I taste?” Casey leaned over him to watch, bracing his arms on either side of his head. “Maybe there’s hope for me to dirty you up a little after all, pancake.”

He was too content in his lax sprawl to argue, so Chuck grinned up at him and ran his hands up both of those powerful arms. “I have to say, that wasn’t much of a punishment, either.”

Squinting down at him, Casey positioned his face directly over the kid’s. A slight smile curved his mouth, which Chuck immediately found worrisome. “Hate to tell you, kid, but that wasn’t your punishment.”

“What? But I thought –”

Casey stopped him before another breath left his mouth, taking away the question with a firm press of lips to his.

“Mmph?” As Chuck tried to move his head, Casey took hold of the back of his neck and held him still. With the strong hand on his nape, a warm mouth taking his, he gave up and returned the kiss.

Nevertheless, in a place far back in his mind, the kid wondered if he should be worried.

It wasn’t the kiss. That made his toes curl.

But at the same time, he distinctly felt a naughty smile pressed against his mouth, delivering a promise of something that made his insides tighten with curiosity.

Not that he was curious. Nope, not at all.

-x- End Chapter Eleven Sins Fell Angels-x-


	12. Chapter Twelve

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twelve

-x-

Chuck plodded barefoot across the plank floors, holding two cups of steaming coffee. Careful not to slosh any, he slid to a stop in front of the alcove’s curtain and cocked his head to listen. Not that he had an abundant amount of experience at this – what, he had woken up next to his lover maybe a half dozen mornings? - but Casey never slept this late.

“Hey, John.” Moving the curtain aside with his shoulder, Chuck peered over at the bed. “Are you going to get up?”

“Why,” he heard sleepily, and Chuck smiled.

“Well, I thought you might want ... breakfast?”

“Me, huh? Probably can’t get you to shut up for ten more minutes, then, can I?”

“Nope. The belly is a-rumbling,” Chuck said, patting it for effect. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Mm.” The large lump under the blanket showed movement by slipping a long leg out from under the covers. “Fine. What time is it?”

“According to your pocket watch, it’s after eight.”

“So you’ve been into my things again,” Casey said wearily.

“I needed some clean ... undershorts. Mine ... well, they -”

“God, kid. Please shut up. I know what happened to them.” Casey groaned and brought a hand up to scrub the side of his face. When he shifted, the blanket fell lower on his hips, revealing every reason why Chuck loved to watch him in the morning. “Is that coffee?”

“Uh, yes. Hope you don’t mind that I made it.” Chuck gave him another smile and came to the foot of the bed. “I thought you might need some.”

Casey rolled over on his back, opening his sleepy eyes to tuck a hand under his head, his body relaxed yet hard. “Going to stand there and stare, kid, or are you going to give it to me?”

“I’m not st – okay, here,” Chuck said, and leaning in further, he held out the mug. “You’ll have to sit up.”

Casey sat up, grimaced when he took a small swig, and repeated the process. Chuck had to frown, because Casey made it look painful.

“Is it okay?” the kid asked.

“Cupcake, it has to be a hell of a morning for me to take two hits from that.”

“Okay, maybe my technique needs a few tweaks, but you’re welcome ... I guess.”

Casey sipped from the cup again and moved his leg to give him a little rub of gratitude, so Chuck took that as a true thank you, at least.

He also took it as an invitation to get a good perusal as his payment. Perusing was safe. Touching was not. Look at the trouble it got him into last night.

Remembering the feel of Casey’s hand, Chuck felt a blush rising. He was thankful for the dim light in the alcove, because if Casey picked up on it, that would lead to more teasing.

It was only the one time, okay? He probably shouldn’t have, he reflected, but that kind of trouble was worth it. Now that they were returning to Black Rock, however, Chuck really couldn’t let that happen again. Hey, they got it out of their systems and from now on, they could be good. Focused on their plans.

Not focused on having Casey sprawled out under the body-warmed covers, hair tousled with sleep -

God, self-denial really sucked.

“You’re still staring kid.”

“I - need anything else?”

Casey looked up at him, a lazy smile in place. Whatever he was ready to say, he thought twice. “Nah. This is good.”

“It is,” Chuck agreed softly. He lifted his own cup to take a drink, and then his eyes drifted over the smooth muscle of Casey’s chest, the flat hard nipples, springy hair that formed a line down to his abs. He still wasn’t used to the idea of having a lover. It would be so easy to reach out, caress his skin, do anything he wanted -

What the hell was wrong with him?! That ‘trouble’ pep talk lasted, what? Two whole minutes?

Get a grip.

“Thanks, pancake,” Casey murmured, reaching to set the cup down on the floor. “Nothing cures a man like a jolt of terrible joe.”

Chuck crinkled his brow and gave his coffee a wary sniff. “Full of compliments today, I see.”

“You’re good at other things,” Casey said, and with a droll look, he nudged Chuck on the leg. “Why don’t you come here? It’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah, I have something for you, too.” As Casey pushed the blanket a bit lower on his hips, the something became visible, poking up from under the cover.

“Uh-huh. Wow. You know, it’s too bad we don’t need a tent. I see you brought yours, though.

“Come over here, kid, and I’ll show you how easy it is to get it up and down.”

“God, I hate you right now.” Especially since Chuck most definitely saw himself getting inventoried like the prettiest gun Casey had ever laid eyes on.

“Come closer and say that,” and Casey’s rumbly suggestion came with a little pat on the sheet next to him. “Nothing scary over here, kid.”

“You do remember what we talked about last night? That we’re going to keep things ... clean until we get clear of this mess?”

“I never agreed to that,” Casey answered, stretching his back a little. “Come and get the cup, then, if you’re going to play coy. Maybe you can get me a refill.”

“Sorry, but you must’ve mistaken me for a complete idiot.” And holy God, he felt his toes curl at the urge to suddenly become one.

“Hm?”

“I’m not going near you until you ... cover up or something. And by that, I mean put that thing away before someone gets hurt. Namely, me.”

“Your loss, princess.” Casey dragged a hand through his hair as he watched him through sleepy yet keen eyes. “Could’ve taught you side-saddle.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Chuck mumbled. Without looking – well, only once - he exited hastily behind the curtain. “Get up, will you?”

There was rustling back there, so Casey was moving. “If you change your mind,” he said low but amused, “feel free to bring that sweet patootie of yours back in here.”

“Forget incorrigible. You’re worse than running with scissors.”

“Afraid you’re gonna get stabbed?”

Chuck scowled at the curtain. He probably should give up now, but the wrong thing caught his attention. Casey’s prized holster, holding his precious gun.

Cautiously, the kid strolled over to where Casey had left it, slung on the back of a chair. “Hey, how does this thing work anyway? My buckshot rifle doesn’t have one of these chambers – is that what you call it? Oh, look it’s loaded. Do you mind if I -”

The curtain swung back with force. “Get your hands off my -”

“False alarm, big guy.” Chuck held up his palms in a peacekeeping gesture, fighting a grin at his flustered, half-dressed boyfriend. Casey had obviously moved in a big hurry. “Gotcha. Never touched it. But now that you’re up, would you mind making breakfast? I’m starving.”

Casey pointed a look at Chuck, and he went back to tucking his shirt in his pants. “Any more of your false alarms, pancake, and that pretty ass is all mine. Got that?”

Damn, Casey had some frightening looks. “Sorry. Thought you’d find the humor in it.”

Casey grumbled something about teaching him to go bareback.

Chuck had no idea, so he kept quiet.

-x-

“This is it, then,” Chuck said, setting down his fork. His plate had been scraped clean ten minutes ago, but the dawdling had burned up some time. “We’re going back now, I suppose.”

“Soon enough, kid.” Even if he didn’t bother to answer, Chuck would recognize the signals: cleaned and loaded guns, a knife stuffed in his boot, and oddly, a pistol with a mother-of-pearl handle tucked in his jeans. “That was always the plan. Nothing’s changed since we talked about this.”

“Nothing?” Chuck asked. “Except that you’re now privy to my secret – which we should talk about, by the way – and last night ....”

Up until that moment, Casey had been focused on packing away the clothes or any food that could be taken on the trail. But the shift in topic made a frown settle over his handsome features, and he set down the saddle bag to stroll over to the kid’s chair.

“Hey,” Casey said, looking down at him. “We do need to talk about that.”

“Before I say anything, you do realize I’m talking about the Cipher, and not –” Chuck hesitated before making a lewd hand motion.

“Can you do that again?” Casey nodded, repressing a smile. “Just want to make sure we are talking about the same thing.”

“Jackass,” Chuck muttered, careful to keep his voice down. He had started to feel like crap, and the teasing wasn’t helping any. “Let me remind you, then, what I’m referring to. Last night you threatened me not to bring it up again.” He made a hand motion with his thumb and finger, shooting bullets. “And not in a nice way.”

“Glad the point stuck with you,” Casey said.

“What – why?”

A big hand curled around the back of Chuck’s neck, and he couldn’t help the tiny shudder that rolled through him. God, is that all he has to do to set him off? “You can’t let that ... flash happen again while you’re still under Liam’s care.”

“Care?” Chuck felt his shoulders stiffen. “Good one, but I’m not stupid. Can we put a little less candy-coating on a piece of poop and call it what it is? Imprisonment.”

“Call it whatever you want,” Casey said, working a few long fingers through Chuck’s hair, softly ruffling. “But if he saw that little act – or overheard some crazy talk ....”

“It’s not an act. I thought we cleared that up.”

“Whatever it is, it may pique his curiosity, and we don’t want that to happen.” Casey rubbed a few curls under his thumb. “He’d try to get it out of you.”

Chuck held still, letting him absently tousle his hair. “I wouldn’t let him,” he said firmly. “You’re the only one.”

“Like you’d have a choice. Look at you, puppy.” Casey snorted, making Chuck knit his brows because that was his ‘you’re a naïve little idiot’ noise. “Let’s just say, he could get any secret he wanted out of you.”

Chuck took a sip of the last dredges of his coffee. Casey was right. It did taste like a wrangler’s sock after a hot day. “What ... what would he do?”

The exploration under his dark tuffs was partway to heaven, but it ended there. With no warning, Casey’s hand clinched down a bit, fingers wrapped around curls. He wanted his full attention.

“There are plenty of ... tools handy.”

“Tools?” Chuck asked.

“That’s right.”

He was more than a little nervous about Casey’s hand. Massaging ... yet squeezing. Whatever had him tense, he was speaking an entire language under his hot palm. “He can’t hurt me any more than he has,” Chuck said.

“Oh, pancake.” Casey’s cold bark of laughter made the kid freeze. “You have no idea, do you?” He lowered his face; warm breath slid into Chuck’s ear. “Even you tried to threaten me with a pitchfork, didn’t you? Wanted to take my head off?”

“Seeing you there was a bit of a surprise, I’ll admit.”

“You know what else is a surprise?” Casey muttered back at him. “Getting beat with the handle of it.” When Chuck winced, he knew Casey could feel that, but it didn’t stop him in his careful elaboration. “But don’t fret about that, kid, because he’ll only leave bruises under your shirt or pants. Places your daddy wouldn’t see, if he decided to give you back.”

“I’d warn my father,” Chuck argued. “The deal would be off.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Casey shook his head. “I don’t know how Liam plans to handle the trade-off, but while you’re there with them? You wouldn’t say a word because you’d be shaking and sick to your stomach. Afraid what he could still do until you’re on that train heading home.”

For being smart, Chuck was appalled at his own stupidity at how long it took for him to understand. Casey wasn’t just speculating to scare him. Casey had witnessed something similar, at least. Hell, he knew his boss, didn’t he? And now he was telling him to shut up and do as he said.

“I won’t say anything, John,” Chuck told him, eyes locked on his. “And the symbols are safe in your pocket, aren’t they? So there won’t be a flash to worry about.”

Casey feathered the bare skin of Chuck’s cheek with his knuckles, taking his time to pick his words. “I know you won’t do anything stupid on purpose.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“But if Liam has any reason to think you’re hiding something ... or that you’re more valuable than just a wayward boy? A runaway?” Casey reached down to bring his hand to the vulnerable front of the kid’s neck, and if he thought he didn’t have Chuck’s attention before, the intake of breath and hard swallow he could feel had to tell Casey enough. “Fretting about those bruises will be the last thing on your mind.”

The hold was strange, intimate yet controlling. “That’s not something I would forget.”

“Yeah? You also wouldn’t forget the ... other tools he’d use on you.”

“Other? Because beating someone with a farm instrument isn’t enough in his book?”

Casey scoffed. Chuck recognized the deep noise, telling him he was bored with his naïveté again.

“Sorry, I’m not familiar with the latest torture techniques,” Chuck said, his voice more peevish than he had intended.

“Then I’ll fill you in, brown eyes.” Casey paused as a huge hand slid slowly up Chuck’s nape to the back of his head. The caress left a warm spot where everything else suddenly felt cold. “A pretty boy like you?” he said softly. “Long legged, wide eyes, not a smudge of tarnish on you? He wouldn’t let a chance like that go past him.”

“A ... chance? Me?”

“What do you think I’m talking about here?” Casey narrowed his eyes at him. “He’d get you over one of those barrels, tear your britches down ... rape you, given the chance.”

Chuck felt a nice little dagger between his ribs. He choked on a cough, a rough tearing sound in his throat. It was the only thing he could do since he didn’t trust his voice.

“Your yelling and crying wouldn’t do any good, either,” Casey continued, moving to touch the pulse of Chuck’s throat. “It would only spur him on. He’d want to hear it. Until your throat burned and you thought your chest would burst. He’s the only man I ever met who has no shame. He’ll do whatever he wants, even if it’s taking your ass until you think you’ll split in half and die.”

How could he deliver that with his thumb brushing delicately over Chuck’s stubble? Scaring the shit out of him, soothing him. “I – we can’t let that -”

“Easy, kid, this is just your warning message. I wanted you to get a taste of the kind of man we’re dealing with. Glad you’re getting it now.” Casey’s fingers slid lower, started stroking down the tendons of his neck. They had to be standing out like mole hills, so Chuck took a breath and only focused on Casey’s tender touch. “Any part of this you don’t understand?”

Chuck gave him a mystified look because his brain had hit a barn door.

“Maybe you weren’t ready to hear that, but you have to know how his mind works.” Casey’s hand shifted, splayed through curls, and if he was trying to hypnotize him into obedience, his fingers were halfway to their objective. “Tell me you understand, brown eyes.”

Chuck took the playful tugging he felt right then as his cue to speak up. He was starting to figure out Casey’s phraseology paired with tactile manipulation. If it didn’t feel so good, he’d tell his lover he’s not the big old puzzle he’d like to be.

“I - I get it, all right?” Chuck said, trying to keep his voice down. “You’re telling me I have to shut up, do exactly as you say, and don’t cause any ruckuses until I’m in St. Louis.”

“Without screwing up,” Casey felt compelled to point out.

“Screw up? Oh, there’s nothing that can go wrong.” Okay, the sarcasm filter wasn’t exactly working. “I mean, I only have to escape from my father, get myself securely tucked away in a cozy little whorehouse, but only until you kill yourself to escape – and is this lost on you? The number of ways that this can go topsy-turvy?!”

“So you do get the part where you have to do exactly as I say?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“Good.”

The next thing Chuck felt were strong fingers tangled around a few curls, and if he wanted them to stay attached – which he did – the kid needed to tip his head upward, straight into Casey’s smirk.

“Not a handle, Casey. It’s hair!”

“Yeah, if you want to keep it, hold still.” In a heartbeat, it was his boyfriend’s lips he felt, firm and steady on his mouth, the quiet reassurance that nothing could go wrong.

“Casey ... we can’t - mm.”

But his lover had to be some type of puppet-master taking hold of his strings to jerk him around. Before he realized exactly what he was doing, Casey took him in a warm open-mouthed kiss, and he responded to it without thinking. Using the angle to press in and conquer, maybe Casey hoped to siphon off all the fear and turmoil. It might be working.

“Mine,” he murmured in his ear. “Got it?” As he pulled back, Chuck could only see blue eyes, filled with mischievousness by how easy that was.

“You’re telling me ... it’s time to go back,” Chuck said.

The wet lips over his formed a small smile, Casey’s way of telling him he appreciated the show of compliance. “I think you’re getting it, kid,” he said. His fingers moved up with one last ruffle, now you’re listening.

Chuck was a little miffed at the assumption he’d be an obedient boy, but he was so hypnotized by the warm caress on his neck, the kiss that moved over bare skin to his hair, that he dropped it.

“But ... you’ll still be there? Sort of my extremely large, cuddly yet terrifying guardian angel?

“I’ll be there.” Casey gave his cheek one more brush with his thumb. Then he pulled away, lifted his holster off the back of a chair and cinched it low on his hips. “But I can’t be with you every minute. That’s why we have these little talks.”

“How long will I be in St. Louis without you, anyway?” Chuck asked, rising to his feet, hat in hand. He had to pull his shit together since it was obvious they would be out of there in five minutes. “Can you give me an idea?”

“It’ll be soon, pancake,” Casey answered, lifting his head to look at him. “Think of it this way. Sabine will make sure you’re taken care of – and who knows? Maybe you’ll get a chance to get on your back and earn your keep, eh?”

“You say the sweetest things, really, big guy.”

“Ready, genius?” Throwing the pack over his shoulder, Mission Mode Casey slid until place, all cold business and physicality.

Chuck looked down at himself. His torn jeans and shirt had been washed at least. In the near future, he would need new boots and a hat. He had nothing else that belonged to him. “This is it, I guess - oops, I almost forgot.”

“Did you say oops? There are no oopses from here on out, kid.”

“Uh, your pocket watch.” Chuck rolled the shiny casing between his fingers and passed it off to his boyfriend. “It was in the coat pocket ... last night.”

Without a word, Casey took it from him and stuffed it in the pack. “Just for safekeeping,” he mumbled. “You’ll get it back.”

“I’m good with that as long as you come back with it.”

As soon as Chuck said it, Casey gave the kid an even look, the tension replaced with something just as fierce. “I’ve broken plenty of promises, kid,” he said almost to himself. “But not this one.”

Chuck smiled, momentarily enjoying the glimpse into the havoc he had raised inside his lover. “One more thing.” He raised his head and leaned in for a kiss, lips skating over Casey’s stubble. “Last one before we’re together again.”

Casey wasn’t expecting to be kissed right then. It brushed the corner of his mouth, warm, moist. The shock wore off, though, and Chuck felt his body turned with his back to the table, thighs pressed against the edge of it. “Last one, huh?”

“John ....” Knowing this could spiral in a snap, the kid arched his back and put his hands on Casey’s shoulders. Can’t do this. “You do know this is a table, right?”

“You’re saying the floor is okay?”

“No!”

“Chair?”

“I – I wouldn’t even know how!”

“I can show you,” Casey rumbled against his neck. “Easy once you get the hang of it.”

“Okay, this is crazy. Up!”

Casey turned a considering eye on him and pressed, a hand sliding down to his waist. Now that he had Chuck flat on his back over the table, he nuzzled the kid’s neck. “God, we could ... so easy ....”

“You’re insane, you know that?” Chuck pushed against Casey’s broad chest, stopping himself before he did something stupid. “We have to go ... and I’m following your lead, whatever you say. I promise.”

“Whatever I say, huh?” Casey smiled and indulged himself with a slow kiss, demanding one more taste before he let Chuck out from under him “You’ll remind me of that later. I’d like to hear it again when I can do something about it.”

The kid immediately scrambled away. “Something tells me you’ll remember without me saying a word,” he replied petulantly, putting on his hat.

Casey came over to him and pressed his lips against Chuck’s frown, kissing him gently until the kid couldn’t argue or think straight. “Okay?” he said against his mouth.

“Yes ... okay,” Chuck answered, lips still brushing his.

Pulling back, Casey tipped his head towards the door. “Good. And I might’ve forgotten to mention one thing, kid.”

Chuck lifted a brow. “What is that?”

“There is one small stop we have to make along the way.”

-x-

“Okay, considering the fact that I’m an integral part of this team now,” Chuck was saying to Casey’s back, “and equal partner, I deserve to know.”

“Pfft.”

“I mean, if we’re stopping – wait. What does that sound mean, exactly?”

Casey looked over at him only long enough to roll his eyes. “If you’re all done being high and mighty up there, swing on down. We’re stopping here.”

“Here?” Chuck, perched in the saddle, steered his horse over to Vic. Casey was already dismounting and grabbing his saddlebag. “I’m going to say this again, but you’re being very secretive about this.”

“I told you everything you need to know,” Casey replied. He confounded Chuck even more by setting his pack on the ground to dig through it. “Down, kid.”

Chuck shot him a dirty look. He had the urge to just stay put and tell him this was bullshit, but two things came to mind, both stopping him from doing it. One, his ribs were back to aching again after several hours on the trail, and two, Casey would do him the favor of yanking him down anyway if he so much as opened his mouth.

How weird was this? The closer they got to Black Rock, the more secretive he became. It was like Mr. Hard Ass rode just rode in, and he brought a hatful of attitude.

Chuck frowned and used the least amount of leverage he could to turn in the saddle, finally noticing his surroundings. In the ripple of the meadow’s grasses, there was a clump of aspen trees, branches curving to the sky. “Here?”

“Yep,” Casey answered.

“You’re being quite stingy with an explanation.”

Casey grunted. About a quarter mile back, he had led them off the trail, where the bramble and prickly gooseberries created a thick cover. He seemed familiar with the area, Chuck saw, picking a spot at the edge of the clearing, overlooking a quick-running brook at the bottom of the sloped hill.

“Remember that little talk we had about ... well, talking more?” Chuck asked.

“Sorry, kid. Now hop down.”

“Sorry my ass,” the kid muttered after Casey turned his head away. Gingerly, he swung down, but a lot of good that did him. A twinge rippled up his middle at the movement. “Ow, ow, ow ....” Chuck sucked in a breath between his teeth and turned to see Casey studying him.

“Everything okay over there, princess?”

“It’s nothing.” Chuck lowered the hand he had clamped to his side.

“Sure it is.” Casey gave him unapologetic perusal. “Come here.”

It was obvious he was checking him for evidence of the injuries, so the kid attempted to look tough. “I said I’m fine,” Chuck pointed out. “Besides, you still haven’t given me answer.”

Unfurling his bedroll, Casey laid it flat on the ground. “Should be fairly soft here in the grass, don’t you think? Shady, too, under this tree.”

“Soft?” Chuck blinked at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

For a second, he thought Casey was trying to get that blow job he had been hinting at since last night. Instead, Casey strode around the blanket and before Chuck could figure out what he was after, he realized too late that it was him.

“Let’s go,” Casey said, bored with this game. His hand wrapped around Chuck’s wrist, and he towed him to the blanket. All Chuck could do was follow, feet dragging and all.

“Hey! Did you hear anything I said? Last night? ‘Let’s keep this focused’? Because I swear that is your blanket on the ground, and if you think I’m going to – that is not happening. Nuh-uh.”

Casey halted and turned. Brick walls were only slightly more cushioned, and maybe he forgot that the kid was directly behind him, being propelled by him, but Chuck stumbled into the larger man with a bit of force. Luckily, it was Casey’s chest, so no harm done.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, kid.”

“Mine?” Chuck went bug-eyed, wondering how he could say that with a straight face.

“I don’t know what’s going on under that hat of yours, but if I was trying to seduce you, you’d know it by now.” Casey’s gaze dropped briefly, and he smirked. “Not to mention, your pants would be missing.”

Chuck did get halfway to checking himself, because he wouldn’t put it past him. “You made your point,” he said. “This wasn’t your idea of a quick and sweaty romp in the grass to work off some frustration.”

“Keep talking like that and it will be,” Casey muttered. He placed a hand on Chuck’s chest and kept pushing and nudging until he had walked him over to stand on the blanket. “Sit.”

“Fine,” Chuck said, plopping down. He was getting accustomed to monosyllabic dialogue. “There. Now talk. What’s going on?”

“Pay attention.” Casey got down on his haunches and picked through a metal tin he had taken from the pack. “There’s a town about an hour down the trail – not the way we’re going, so I’m making a detour.”

Chuck sat up. “Why?”

“I have some business to attend to there,” Casey said, making a point to stretch out each syllable of his next word. “Alone.”

“Hang on.” Chuck’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re leaving me here?”

“Only for a few hours, kid. You’ll be comfortable.” Casey brought his hand down, then up and under the kid’s shirt, pressed lightly on his left ribcage. “How’s this?”

“Ah – ow – what?” Chuck sputtered, batting his hand away. “Why do you do that?”

“Still hurting, from the looks of it.”

Chuck brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them in case he tried that again. “What business, John?”

Casey, staying hunkered down next to him, grabbed a small burlap bag out of the pack and stuffed it under his arm. “It’s called none of yours.”

“What? Whoa. What do you have in there?” Chuck reached for the bag. “Are those clothes?”

“Hands off that, cupcake.” The slap took care of that.

“Ah – wow.” Chuck waved his stinging fingers in the air. “Listen, didn’t I open up to you last night? Wasn’t that progress?”

“Oh, it was, tiger,” Casey said, a slow grin bathing the kid in heat. “Not as much as I had planned, but it got the job done.”

“Not that.” Chuck suddenly became fixated on a tree in the distance, and he flushed. “You know darn well what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, but the less you know about this, the better.” Casey’s smile faded. “There’s food in the tin. Water in the canteen.” He cut his eyes down the grassy hill. “If you decide to go for a dip, wait until I get back, eh?”

“You’re serious,” Chuck said, watching his face closely. “You are leaving me.”

“You’ll be safe. Get some rest.”

“This is like talking to a wall!”

“Smartest thing you said all day.” Casey patted his knee and rose to his feet. “Be good.”

“Be good? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“What if I decide I want to come with you, did you think of that? What If I decide not to stay here per your orders?”

“Honestly, sport?” Casey took only a second to consider it. “If you think you’re coming with me, I’m going to hogtie you to that tree right there and hope you can play possum if a bear comes wandering into the meadow.” His focus lowered, passed down over Chuck’s torso and back up again. “Think you have any talent at pretending not to be a skinny yet tasty snack?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Casey glanced down at him, sighed, and opened his pack again.

“What ... what are you doing?” Chuck asked, wary.

He pulled out a length of rope. “Don’t struggle, because I’d hate to have to kick your ass.”

“Wh-what?” Chuck’s eyes darted to the rope, up to Casey’s stern face, and back down to the rope. “You know what? You really need to work on this ‘opening up to me’ thing!”

“Nope. Hold out your –”

“You wouldn’t!”

Casey cocked a brow at him.

Chuck stared. Two seconds later, he cracked like an egg. “Okay, fine. I’ll stay here. No hogtying necessary.” He patted the blanket a few times and crossed his ankles. “Um, comfy.”

“Glad we see eye to eye on this,” Casey replied, and leaned in. He brought Chuck’s chin up, making the kid look at him. “And don’t even think about following me.”

“I’ll be fine.” Chuck kneed him in the thigh and motioned off to the distance. “Just don’t forget about me – oh, and stay out of trouble.” He gave him a witty smile. “I hear there are disreputable types around here.”

Rather than return the barb, the larger man regarded him in a way that had Chuck wondering if he was rethinking his level of trust. The kid could almost see the temptation to hogtie him scroll past his blue eyes.

After a long deliberation, Casey took a deep breath and forced it out. “Three hours. Get some rest. Get the horse some water.” He rose to his feet, still studying him. “Try not to pose as a turkey dinner if a bear strolls in.”

“That’s real comforting, John.”

Casey merely chuckled, adjusting his hat as he stood. “Be good, pancake,” he said without turning around.

Chuck huffed, annoyed at being treated like a dumb kid. With nothing else to do, he watched his lover climb on his horse and cross the meadow, riding off until the trees at the end of the clearing swallowed him up.

Somehow, the kid knew this was a test.

The more Chuck thought about it – and hey, he had nothing but time to wait for him, right? – the more perturbed he became. Really, how could Casey just leave him like this? Gah! Why did he have to be so damn close-mouthed?

That bastard was testing him.

Was Casey nuts?

In a way, this was his fault. Sneaking around. Not telling him a damn thing. And if Chuck did this right, Casey would never be the wiser.

The kid got up and brushed himself off. First he’d have to find a change of clothes, and hence he started with the pack Casey had so kindly left behind.

Don’t follow me, huh? Chuck thought, digging around through the spare clothes.

Well, hell yes, he was going to follow him.

-x-

“Mr. ... Doherty? What a ... pleasant surprise.”

Yeah, it’s always a fucking pleasant surprise when your most esteemed client shows up at the doorstep unannounced. Worse, to make a withdrawal that will leave the vault with a hole big enough to send a cattle drive through the middle of it.

Hearing his boss’s name, Casey turned and pasted on an assured look. “Mr. Zyli. Good afternoon.” He extended his palm to return the handshake, noticing Zyli couldn’t hide his confusion. “The pleasure all is mine.”

“Please, have a seat.” The little redheaded twit in his bad tweed suit was all over him, bowing and scraping and making Casey ill. “This is ... unexpected. What can we do for you today, sir? Is this business related or ...?”

It took every ounce of his willpower not to roll his eyes. No, asshole, it’s a social visit.

Withholding the sentiment, Casey slid a hand into his wool vest and tugged out an envelope. Empty, except for the forged documents. “I’ll require your assistance to make a withdrawal today.”

The man’s face fell. “I see. Please. Have a seat.”

“I prefer to stand,” Casey replied, and politely cleared his throat. “I have business partners waiting at the hotel for me to sign transaction papers.”

“Oh.” Zyli ran a hand nervously down the front of his coat. “May I ask –”

“All of it,” Casey said casually. “I’m afraid I’m closing out the Wegelin account.”

“Sir, is there –”

“No. No problem. I’m sure you’ll find all the documents in order.” Casey looked down at him through the wireframe glasses and handed him the envelope. “If you don’t mind, the associates representing Great Western are waiting for me.” So move your ass, eh?

He was proud of himself for biting back the last part.

“I’m afraid this may take just a little longer, Mr. Doherty –”

“Liam,” Casey said with a note of confidence, despite the dark cutaway coat that made him itch.

“Ah, yes. Liam,” Zyli recalled, studying the papers that he had pulled from the envelope. When he glanced up at Casey, he seemed distracted. “For an amount of this magnitude, Mr. Cole will want to oversee the withdrawal ... ensure everything is in order.”

“Mr. Cole?”

“Uh, certainly, Mr. – Liam.” Zyli closed the envelope and set it on his desk. “You do remember him? He’s the one you met with – several times in the past few months, as I recall.” The man rubbed the front of his neck, giving away his unease. “Mr. Cole oversaw your deposits when you opened the account. A sum from the South Railroad transaction, I believe?”

Oversaw it all, did he? How could Casey have missed it? That cheating bastard Liam, of course, had closed out the deal with Connolly while Casey had been preoccupied at a certain farm by a pair of innocent brown eyes.

Interesting. Must’ve slipped the giant asshole’s mind not to mention it to him.

It did explain why this little boot-licking fucker was staring at him in a funny way. Maybe he met Liam at the bank. Recently, too, with a fresh picture painted on his mind. Maybe he even knew that something was a bit off about the man who stood in front of him. The line of his jaw just a bit more angular. His nose not quite crooked in the same way.

Casey had become quite adept at forming the derma wax, supple and flesh-colored. Nearly perfectly, but in this case, nearly may not be close enough.

God, he’d really hate to have to shoot himself out of this mess.

“Is everything all right, Mr. – ah, Liam?” The man bobbed his head, eyeing him up and down. “For a moment there, you looked as if you were bothered by something.”

In another moment, this little dill weed was going to look like a man with a boot shoved up his ass.

Casey firmed his chin. Immediately, he knew he had to weigh the risk of pushing it, and perhaps being called out as an imposter, or leaving Liam with enough crutch-money to get back on his feet again.

In his mind, there was a significant pause, trying to decide if the risk was too much.

Yes, it was a lot of money.

But there was a young man waiting on a hill, stretched out asleep in the shade. Counting on the fact he’d be there for him.

It filled him, humbly and warm, that Chuck made the decision simple enough. All Casey could do was make it back there for him.

“I’m afraid I can’t keep my associates waiting, Mr. Zyli,” Casey told him. “I’ll return when –”

“Mr. Doherty?” a voice called from behind them.

Son of a bitch. Casey’s hand automatically fell to the pocket pistol he kept in his waistband. It wasn’t Betty, but it’d get him out of here.

“Mr. – ah, there you are.”

Casey froze with his fingers on the pistol’s grip. His brain whirled. The last thing he expected was to recognize the man’s voice. He turned towards the interloper.

Immediately, he was caught in the young man’s expression. Casey felt his jaw drop. Hell, he must’ve looked like an idiot, but it couldn’t be helped.

Those were his pants. His jacket. And a pair of soft brown eyes that he liked to think belonged to him as well.

Oh, yeah. Now that scrawny ass in a pair of borrowed pants was going to be his as soon as this little escapade was over.

Casey took his hand out of his jacket, pinned him with a hard stare. Even through the glasses, he hoped Chuck could pick up on the expression. It didn’t quite relay the threat of death, but it clearly said Casey wouldn’t think twice of taking him over his knee for this stupid stunt.

“Can’t believe I caught up to you,” Chuck said. “Uh, they gave the job to the person with the longest legs. Lucky me, hm? I’m just glad I didn’t disappoint them.”

Remembering to close his mouth, Casey slanted a look at Zyli. He was relieved to find that he wasn’t the only one taken off guard by the intruder.

“Oh?” Zyli said. “Can I help you ... sir?”

“Um, no – but I wanted to ... help Mr. Doherty,” Chuck said.

“Help me?” Casey asked between his teeth. “May I ask how?” Other words couldn’t make it onto his lips, since he wanted to grab the kid by the collar and haul him out of there.

“Oh! Sorry! I interrupted you. My fault.” Chuck smiled broadly, pushed up a pair of bookish glasses on his nose, and waved a small stack of papers at him. “But you forgot these, Mr. Doherty.”

“Forgot?” Casey asked, trying not to flick an ‘I will strangle you’ look at the kid.

“Well, sure.” Chuck barely flinched before he strode confidently up to the men. “You’ll need these in order to finalize the transfer of funds to uh, GW. They don’t like mishaps when it comes to dollars and cents – or waiting, I must say.” The kid let out a too-loud laugh. “A few of them look quite bored with the proceedings. Is there any way we can –”

“May I ask, young man, your role here?” the banker asked stiffly. “Are you an associated of ...?”

“Oh! Sorry, so sorry.” Chuck fumbled with the papers before stuffing them under his arm, freeing up his hand in order to extend it in a handshake. “I’m Chu – uh, Charles.” He then gave the grin that could diffuse a cannon. “Charles ... Carmichael.”

Carmichael, eh? Synonymous for dead man, Casey decided on the spot.

Casey clenched his jaw, keeping Chuck straight in the crosshairs. The look should’ve melted the kid’s boots to the floor, but Chuck purposely ignored him.

“And, Mr. Carmichael,” Zyli began, “you have something for ..?”

“Ah, yes.” Chuck smoothed the front of the black jacket he had kindly borrowed from Casey’s pack. “I’m one of the attorneys representing ... GWRR. I’m certain Mr. Doherty has explained the circumstances that have brought us here today?”

“He started to, yes.”

“Before we were interrupted,” Casey added coolly.

“Well, no matter. The, uh, directors have accepted his bid for ... part ownership of our enterprise.” He turned to Casey and handed off the papers. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Doherty.”

Driving hard is not going to be your only problem, cupcake.

“It’s a fair sum,” Casey said, recovering as he glanced over at Zyli, “considering the recent downgrade of value due to UP’s recent acquisitions. Perhaps we can return to a position where we’re not being led by the nose by our competitors.”

Chuck cleared his throat and smiled. “Then you, Mr. Doherty, are the investor we’ve been looking for. Now, if you don’t mind, sir, I did mention the issue of the board’s lack of patience?”

“Did you just drop something, Mr. Carmichael?” The banker looked down.

“Oops.”

Casey suppressed a cringe.

“Oh, sorry,” Chuck blurted, jolting before he looked down. “I’ll – uh, pardon me.” Both he and Zyli went for the loose paper and almost knocked heads. Somehow, the kid got to it a bit faster and swiped the document before Zyli could get his hand on it. “Got it. Clumsy me.”

“You were saying, Carmichael?” Casey asked, trying to keep the brittleness out of his tone.

“I was? Uh, yes, I was. They sent me to give you these – and I have to say, they feel they’ve spent more than enough time in Rocky Ford trying to hammer this out.”

“Mr. Zyli was just explaining to me that there may be a wait,” Casey said. Well, what he really said was that Carmichael had better figure out where the hell he was going with this, or Casey would pluck him clean. “A certain ... Mr. Cole may want to oversee the paperwork for the withdrawal.”

“Fine,” Chuck said, turning to the banker. “Where’s Cole?”

Zyli peeked past the kid’s shoulder. “He’s not ... here at the moment.”

“When do you expect him?”

“Well, I don’t really know when –”

“No, no, no,” Chuck broke in, holding up a hand. “If he’s not here now, then it will be you handling this simple withdrawal, Mr. ..?”

“Zyli.”

“Zyli,” Chuck repeated. With a quick look at Casey, he put a hand on the banker’s shoulder and prudently pulled him aside. “Listen, Mr. Zyli, are you new here?”

“I – I’ve been here awhile.”

“Uh-huh.” Chuck tilted his head at him. “I see.”

“Mr. Carmichael, if you would just take a seat, I’m certain we can –”

“Are you familiar with these clients? The board of GW? Mr. Doherty?”

The man looked to the side, taking a moment to straighten the hem of his vest. “Well, I –”

“Okay, then. I’ll explain it to you. These men are not particularly accustomed to being held up by bureacrats. So Mr. – what was his name?

“Cole.”

“Cole needs to walk through that door. This minute, actually.” He narrowed his eyes at the shorter man. “In fact, if the board and Mr. Doherty have to be delayed any longer, they may decide Mr. Cole or yourself have intent to commit ... uh, animus nocendi.”

“Delay?” Zyli, trying to keep his cool, twisted around look at Casey. “We would never –”

“Wegelin Bank could be involved for that matter.” Before Zyli could protest, Chuck waved him off and strolled over to the desk. “Is that the intention today? Because my employers have no patience, and the man next to you has less than that.”

Casey had to acknowledge the first damn true thing Chuck had said in the past ten minutes.

“I – we’re only trying to be –”

“Sir,” Chuck interrupted, venturing a couple steps closer to Casey. “Are you able to oversee the handling of the paperwork for Mr. Doherty? Or do we need to negotiate with the board to delay their departure in order to accommodate Mr. ..?”

“Cole.”

“So that he can fit us into his busy schedule?” Chuck gave a meaningful look around as if searching for the missing man, and then whispered to Casey, “This is very irregular, Mr. Doherty. I assure you GW had nothing to do with this tactic.”

“Tactic?” the banker repeated, and his head shot up.

“Mr. Zyli. I’m not ... suggesting that you had a hand in this display of incompetence –”

“Here are Wegelin, we don’t –”

“Though incompetence implies there aren’t more nefarious motivations at play.” Chuck pretended to contemplate. “As my client’s attorney, I have to ask. Does Wegelin benefit if the deal –”

“Enough!” Zyli rose on his toes to stare at Chuck, though the kid was a head taller than him. “I will sign the papers. And I assure you, Wegelin has nothing to gain by delaying this transaction.”

“I see,” Chuck said, looking appropriately cowed. “Then let’s sign the papers.”

Casey blinked. He would’ve been impressed with the acting job the kid was pulling off if he wasn’t thinking of the ten ways he would bend him over for this.

Zyli bristled and turned to Casey. “If you don’t mind, Mr. Doherty, I’ll oversee the transaction. Please, sirs.” He signaled to his desk. “I assure you I can facilitate your business deal without causing - what was it?”

“Animus nocendi,” Chuck answered with reverence.

“Yes. That.” Zyli sat in his chair and took hold of his fountain pen. “Mr. Doherty, we hope you’ll return your business to us after ... the agreement proves beneficial to all parties.”

Casey smiled pretty for the man and kicked Chuck under the desk. “Yes. Everyone’s ... going to come out of this getting precisely what they deserve.”

“Ow,” Chuck mouthed when Zyli looked down.

“Dead man,” Casey mouthed back at him.

“I’ll be right back with your ... funds, Mr. Doherty.” Zyli gave one last imploring look and got up from his chair. “Excuse me, please.”

“Certainly,” Casey said while he and Chuck sat up a little straighter and tried to look innocent. One was able to pull it off.

“Yes. Go do ... whatever it is that you need to,” Chuck added helpfully.

After he left, Casey turned to the kid and whispered out the side of his mouth, “You’re in luck.”

“Yeah? Why?” Chuck asked, pretending to look over some papers Zyli had left.

“Because if we weren’t sitting in this lobby ... all these people watching? You’d be trying to peel my fingers from your neck.”

“Well, then, yay for witnesses,” Chuck said, not looking up at him. “Did I do that poorly? It’s the glasses, isn’t it? You can tell me, it is. Wait. Or my hair. Did that give it away?”

Casey swiveled in his seat to stare him down. “A piece of advice? If you want to play this game? You might want to get that smart aleck grin off your face before he gets back.”

Hearing that, Chuck pulled his eyes away from the papers long enough to give him the sunniest smile he could muster.

“You want to know what I’m picturing right now?” Casey mumbled.

“Not at all.”

“How you’re gonna look with a collar around your neck.”

-x-

“Are those my pants, Carmichael?” Casey asked, noticing the drape-y bag covering his skinny cheeks, easily visible since Chuck was walking along the ally ahead of him.

“Um, is it that obvious?”

“Fuck. And what about my damn jacket? Where did you even find that?”

“Well ... are you sure you want to know?”

“God, your ass is so mine for this.”

“I hate to point out the obvious,” Chuck said, slowing his walk to peer over an overgrown rose hedge, “but isn’t it kind of already?”

“Did I say I was ready to hear you talk, Bartowski?”

“Sorry.” Chuck, holding Casey’s hand, led them down a narrow dirt path. It looked to be adjacent to the back of a general store. “Continue with the lambasting, if you must.”

“If you ever think of pulling another stupid trick like this one, I will personally use your – hey. Is that my shirt?”

“Um, you might’ve noticed that mine was a little torn? And I thought since I was playing the part of – ow! Hey, who’s towing who here? Can you just try to relax your arm? I mean, for once, can you just follow me?”

Casey growled but reluctantly let Chuck take the lead, since he did seem to know where he was going. The path that ran behind the store seemed to be vacant at the moment, but Casey slanted a look past his shoulder anyway. At least no one was following them, so maybe the nerd did have a guardian angel.

Because Christ. What the hell just happened?

If Casey didn’t know better, he’d swear that Mr. Doherty and the awkwardly cute GW attorney might just be leaving town without too much of a ruckus. And with a shitload of cash.

“Fine, genius. Which way?”

“Over here.” The kid didn’t bother to turn around as he dodged to the left. Maybe he was afraid of what he’d see. With good reason, Casey knew.

“Why do you keep an extra stash of starchy clothes, anyway?”

“You know what, kid? You should be worried about a hell of a lot more than that right now.”

“Oh, not that way,” Chuck told him, pulling more insistently in the direction of an overgrown walkway behind a saloon. “It was this way.”

“How the fuck do you know?”

“Uncanny sense of direction.”

“Ah, hell.” Up until this moment, Casey was the one who had an uncanny sense of direction. “All right, tell me this, puppy. Was there anything unclear about the instructions I gave you? Didn’t I tell you to stay with the horse?”

“You’re mad. I get it.” Chuck came to a stop and got on his tip toes, poking his head up over a tall plank gate. “There it is. One more side street. Past that fence with the climbing purple wisteria.”

“You do realize we’re having a long talk about this?” Talk? Hell, Casey was proud of himself for not snapping him in half by now. “And there’s a good chance part of your punishment won’t include talking.”

“Um, that’s hardly a punishment,” he heard Chuck say to himself.

Casey squinted at the back of his curly head. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been struck speechless by a bawdy remark, but more confusing, he felt his dick firm up at Chuck’s offhand comment.

That settled it. The last hour of his life was something out of one of those weird novels he had noticed on Chuck’s bookshelf back at the farm. Jules Verne, or something else that didn’t sound American.

“Here we go.” Chuck turned sharply to the right, his grip strengthening to ensure Casey followed. “Now … let’s see – they should be right around that corner ....”

“Who? How in the hell did you find me, anyway?”

“Vic gave you away.”

“Vic? She’d never –” he began until the kid turned around, biting back a smile.

“Talk? Uh, no, but I did see her tied up to a post in front of the hotel. For a minute, I thought you might be inside, but I didn’t see you in the lobby ... and the clerk couldn’t recall a man your size passing through –”

“You asked? About me? Bang up, job, kid. And I suppose you thought it would be a good idea to draw attention to yourself, too, Mr. Carmichael?”

“It was a risk, okay?” Chuck confessed, tugging on his hand. “I had to take it.”

“Then you’ll understand what I have to do, too.”

“Um, question: can you walk and growl at the same time?”

“Still doesn’t answer how you found me,” Casey said.

“Oh. So after I saw Vic, I left Bart at the post next to her and decided to just take a walk along the storefronts until I got to the bank.”

“Anyone stop you? Talk to you?”

“Just the sheriff,” Chuck noted, deliberately not looking at Casey.

“Let me get this straight. You talked to the sheriff?”

“Hear me out. He only wanted to know if I was enjoying my stay in Rocky Ford.” Chuck paused, looking down to assess the ill-fitting overcoat. “Huh. Do you think it’s the suit? Or do I look like a mysterious outsider who rode into town?”

“Yeah, it’s the suit,” Casey said, rolling his eyes at the kid’s hair sticking out every which way from under a bowler cap. Curiously, he saw that Chuck was leading them through a side path towards the front of the hotel. The creak of a wagons and the smell of sewage became more conspicuous, drifting over from a dirt-packed road that cut through the middle of town. “Are you going to get to the part where you found me?”

“Well ... when I walked past the bank … um, Casey, I hate to break the news to you, but you don’t exactly blend into the crowd, now, do you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you might be able to hide your face – that’s really cool by the way. What is that stuff?”

“I will break your hand.”

“Okay. Wow. Well, maybe you can hide your face, but you can’t hide your shoulders, John ... and other bits that stick out.”

“You had better be talking about my –”

“Head, Casey. All right, here we are.” The kid turned an appraising eye on him. “Are you going to be able to lower the ‘I’m going to kill you look’ about five notches until we get out of town? Because someone may notice. Just sayin’.”

“I should’ve hogtied you when I had the chance.”

“Oh, knot demonstrations. Nice,” Chuck muttered. “That’s how to treat your boyfriend.” Even with the touch of arrogance, Casey did notice – and appreciate – Chuck’s hard swallow. “Another minute and the porch will be clear. Looks like some folks are getting ready to go in.”

“Great. Now we’ve got you casing the joint.”

“Stay, big guy ... stay.”

After giving him the evil eye, Casey decided to stay put. They had come to a stop at the end of the alley that opened up to the street. “Where were you standing to hear all of that?” he asked quietly.

“Over by the door? Really, no one noticed.”

“Yeah, you blend right in, kid. How long were you there listening to us?”

“Just a few minutes, I promise.”

“Sure it was,” Casey sneered. “And where did you get those papers you were flaunting?”

Chuck turned to give him another grin. “I borrowed them from the desk next to the door. I was really hoping Mr. Zyli wouldn’t read them.”

“So you thought it would be a good idea to drop them?”

“Hey, can you cut me some slack? I’m new at the whole ‘crash and heist’ business.”

“Fuck.” Casey shook his head and rubbed his eyelids. “Animus nocendi. Puh. What does that mean anyway?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, really,” Chuck admitted, sounding guilty. A case of the jitters was finally making him sweat, and he had to take off his hat to run a hand through his damp hair. “It’s Latin, and I think I said Wegelin had legal intention of harm ... or ... well.”

“What?”

“Uh, my horny steer awaits his task to defile your pristine cow.” His nose wrinkled. “Suffice to say, I was never good at Latin.”

“You are so dead for this stunt,” Casey mumbled, but a few seconds later he surprised both of them when he let out a low a low belly laugh. “Horny steer, eh?”

“And I already regret telling you that. Okay, they’re gone.” Taking Casey’s hand, Chuck pulled him past the doorway to the hotel, where they could hear voices carrying from inside. “Here we are. Ta da.”

Tied to a hitching post were Vic and gentle Bart. As he hid his surprise, Casey walked over to Vic and stroked her neck. “You didn’t stop him, girl?” he growled. “You have my permission to kick his ass if he tries something like that again.”

“You do know she’s a horse, right? Her capability for comprehension is extremely limited.”

Casey turned to stare.

“Oh-kay, then.” Chuck furtively wiped a palm on his slacks. “Now what?”

“First, let go of my hand, unless you really want to draw attention to us.”

“Oh. Sorry. I did say I wasn’t good at this.”

Could’ve fooled me, Casey thought, but he didn’t want to encourage him.

Casey cast a glance down the road and automatically reached into his vest, ran his fingers over the envelope. Heavy with money. Convinced he wasn’t dreaming, he looked over at the kid, who seemed to be relieved to relinquish control of the operation now that he had rescued him.

Shit, did he really think that?

“Jesus, kid, you might’ve shirked them good,” Casey said, cinching down a strap on Vic’s saddle.

“Hey, you think so?” Chuck asked, and in an undertone, he added, “Do you think I could be good at this?”

“Sure, pancake. And you know what? If I weren’t so goddamn pissed at you right now, I’d be impressed and hard as a rock.”

“Oh, yippee,” Chuck managed, and Casey watched the smile dissolve into a blush that could light this two-bit main street at night.

Pleased that his world had righted itself, Casey adjusted his hat and nodded towards the other horse. “Climb up while you can still walk,” he said. “Time to get the hell out of here.”

-x- End Chapter Twelve Sins Fell Angels-x-


	13. Sins Fell Angels (Chapter Thirteen)

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Thirteen

-x-

“Wondered what took you so long.” Chuck said it in a friendly way, but from the guilty look in his eyes, Casey knew he was trying to hide the clothes he had stolen by stuffing them away in the pack. “Have a good dip?”

“You should’ve joined me.”

“Too dangerous,” the kid answered, a bit of a laugh in his voice. “Anyway, this is just as nice.”

“As swimming in the creek?” Casey asked, though he had to respect a man who could stick to his principles. “Then you’re doing it all wrong. Or you forgot.”

Chuck flicked a smile at him and turned away to scratch his head. “You’re right. Maybe that wasn’t you.”

Casey chuckled, though he recognized the tactic to get him to dismiss the near-fiasco at Wegelin. Well, that wasn’t going to work. But getting away from the kid for a few minutes was what he needed, and Casey had spent his time wading in the shallow stream at the bottom of the grassy hill, letting the breeze and the quiet of the place close in on his mind, fill the troubled spots for a while. It took a good twenty minutes, but he no longer had the urge to take the little shit over his knee for that stunt. Not the fun way, either, though the kid was clueless there, too.

“What are you staring at?” Casey barely had to glance at him, since he could feel the heat of Chuck’s dark chocolate eyes studying him as he came to the shady spot under the tree.

“I was only putting away the clothes,” Chuck said quickly, holding up the pack to demonstrate. “See? Everything back to normal. No harm done.”

“Heh.” Casey looked over from sliding the canteen back in his saddlebag. “You call that normal? For once, you followed orders and stayed put while I went down to the creek. I’d say that was a fucking miracle.”

“Um, still bitter, I see.”

“Do you think giving me those big eyes is going to make me forget to kick your ass for this?”

“I’m not staring.” Chuck smiled dazzlingly, his longs legs stretched out in front of him, and kept doing it.

“Don’t even try to pull that shit on me.”

It was enough to make Casey give a quick perusal of his own shirt and jeans to see if anything was amiss, but no. He stood in his bare feet, carrying his boots in one hand, his hair and face still damp from washing up in the creek. It was always the first thing he had to do after a heist like that one. Restore his own identity.

“Fine.” Chuck lifted a hand and curled his fingers at him. “Come here.”

Casey put the boots down at the edge of the bedroll, keeping a wary eye on him. The irresistible grin, however, made it impossible not to do exactly as Chuck suggested.

“Pretty bossy for a man in your position,” Casey said, strolling over the blanket to stand next to the place where Chuck was seated. “Comfortable there, pancake?”

“I could be better,” the kid replied, and he leaned back in order to meet his eyes. At that moment, Casey nearly jolted when he felt one of Chuck’s hands travel up the leg of his jeans, landing on his hip. A detour at his belt would be welcome, but Chuck reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging on a handful of fabric. “I meant come down here.”

The grip made him remember that the kid was no delicate flower when he set his mind to it, and frankly, Casey had no desire to fight him.

“You want my shirt now?” Casey asked under his breath, but he let himself get steered down until a pair of inquisitive brown eyes suddenly filled his vision. Not that he minded. Who knew the kid had such long dark lashes, anyway?

“Hm. That’s much better,” Chuck murmured, eyes roving over his jaw, his nose.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Casey didn’t appreciate being examined like a newly discovered species. “Hands off the shirt ... unless you’re ready to take it off all the way, tiger.”

“No, sorry,” Chuck said, his smile fading as he traced his finger along the sharp blade of Casey’s jaw. “Your face ... I have to say, I like this version much better.”

“Better?” Casey’s mouth tightened briefly, though he was half-tempted to bite that pesky finger now brushing his bottom lip.

“I was just surprised to see you with the face of a man who, frankly, makes me want to crap my pants.”

“It’s just a job, kid.”

Chuck wrinkled his nose. “Robbing banks?”

“Nah. That’s not what I do.”

“I hate to point out the obvious, but withdrawing money while disguised as another man – no matter how despicable said man is – well, that is the definition of -”

“Eh. Shove your definitions.” Casey wrapped his giant hand around the kid’s hold on his shirt. “I didn’t rob a bank. I robbed a man. And I would tell you how all of those funds were acquired in the first place, princess, but I wouldn’t want to upset your delicate sensibilities.”

“Hey, I only asked.”

“Yeah, well, this is the only thing you need to know,” Casey replied, unable to contain a hint of menace in his voice. “You want to bring down a giant? Well, leave your fucking slingshot at home. Every man has his own weakness.”

“The money ....” Chuck swallowed. “So you’re taking ... all of it.”

“Got a problem with that?”

“But – and I know I’m going to hell for this – you ... I mean, normally when you want to bring down a man, don’t you ...?” The kid paused to make a motion with his forefinger and thumb.

“Pull the trigger, end him ... is that what you want?”

Chuck looked down at his hand. “I can’t ... say that.”

Casey wondered what kind of a man could survive the things Liam had put him through and not want the dirty prick dead. But he figured he already knew the answer.

“Well, I’d like to see him dead.”

“What? You’re going to -”

“Didn’t say that, did I?” Casey loosened his hold on Chuck’s hand enough to brush his thumb over his knuckles, back and forth. “To the world out there, he’s an upstanding member of society. The esteemed Mr. Doherty devises deals that expand man’s reach. To the West. To the North. He even sits on the board of Oregon Pacific.”

“What? You didn’t tell me that.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Think of it this way, twerp. I kill him, and we spend the rest of our days in hiding. So ... I’m killing him in a way that will really kill him.” He snorted softly at the thought. “No one is more in love with money – and the power that comes with it – than Liam Doherty.”

“What was that stuff, anyway?” Chuck twisted his hand and Casey let it go. A second later, he felt the kid sweep a few fingers over his cheek. “On your face?”

“Still none of your damn business.

“After I shared my life story with you?”

“Yep.”

Chuck frowned at him. “That’s your plan?” he asked. “Stealing every last cent from him, stashing it away somewhere, and then disappearing under the water ...? Pretending to die? Which I still don’t like, by the way.”

“You don’t get a vote,” Casey answered, and since the kid was determined to hold him there, he got down on his haunches in front of him. “And while we’re on that topic, we need to talk about what happened today.”

“Um, personally, I’m perfectly happy not discussing it.”

“Think again, sport.”

Chuck blew a sigh, and a few warm fingers brushed the hollow of Casey’s throat. “I think I proved I can be an equal partner in this master plan of yours.”

“You have a role here, kid,” Casey said. “And it doesn’t include barging in where you don’t belong.”

“You know, my memory may be a little foggy, but I remember today a bit differently. If it wasn’t for me ‘barging in’, you could be warming a bench in Rocky Ford’s jail cell right about now.”

“You’re right.” Casey settled his hands on Chuck’s shoulders and gave him a little shake. He wasn’t about to let go until he got one thing through to the stubborn kid. “We got lucky this time. There were a dozen things that could’ve gone wrong. We could both be stuck in a cell if Zyli wasn’t born an idiot. The guard at the door -”

“Wait.” Chuck stared back at him, eyes wide. “There was a guard?”

“Waistcoat? Velvet collar? Looked like a customer so that he’d blend in. You can pick them out ... almost always.”

“But ... how?”

“The little Deringer he had tucked in his belt should’ve tipped you off.” As he explained, Casey used the grip on Chuck’s shoulder to pull him in closer until their noses were just inches apart. “Or the way he never took his eyes off of us. If you were paying attention to your surroundings, you may have noticed.”

The kid hunched his shoulders. “Okay, you’ve made your point.”

“Really.” Casey eyed him speculatively. “Because every time we have this talk, puppy, you appear to forget too easily.”

“I – that’s not -”

“Shut it. Seems it was just last night I warned you about keeping your ass out of the way from here on out, and less than twelve hours later, you showed up at a bank in the middle of a –”

“Heist?”

“Authorized transaction,” Casey corrected, smooth as silk. “I thought I told you to stay with the horses.”

Chuck seemed to be digesting whether he should own up to his little bout of what Casey liked to call insubordination. “Are you always pushy when you try to win an argument? Because I’d like -”

“When it fits the crime, yeah.” The physical pressure on his shoulders obviously peeved the kid, but Casey was not going to play around. Not when it came to the matter of Liam. Cupcake here had already been warned of what the man was capable of, and the cuss of an Irishman didn’t need a reason beyond enjoyment to hurt him. “Did you comprehend the warning, or was that little show a preview - and I need to come up with another way to keep you on a leash?”

“You would never -”

“Try me,” Casey broke in.

Chuck tried to stare him down. Wisely, he gave up after a half minute of a threatening silence. “I’m sorry, okay? And there are no ‘buts’ attached. Just ... I’m sorry.”

Casey squinted at him, and seeing plain truth and nothing else, he reached around and gave the kid’s ass a proprietary tap. “Not giving yourself enough credit, button. I happen to be fond of it.”

“Hey. Can we focus here?” Chuck took a second to swat at the large encroachment on his backside. “I meant ‘but you keep too many secrets from me ... but you should’ve told me what you were doing’. I should trust that you know what you’re doing to get us out of this ... so that we can be ... together.”

“Glad you’re with me on this.” Casey smiled, dropping his knees on the bedroll, landing on either side of Chuck’s. “But I have to tell you kid, your method for giving a halfway decent apology ... sucks.”

“It does?” Chuck’s eyes drifted down before he looked up again. “You have a funny way of asking for a kiss, but okay.” He tilted his head and swept his lips, warm and moist, over Casey’s. “There.”

Casey lowered his eyes to get a better look at the most clueless man on earth. Here they were, sprawled out on a soft blanket under a tree, hours away from walking into a dangerous predicament, and the kid supposed a kiss would cover it?

“Thought you might wanna work off some nervous energy, eh?”

“What?”

“I know you’re the hostage, kid, but I’m beginning to think my dick is a hostage, too.”

Finally, he got it. “Asshole,” Chuck said, twisting backwards. “I thought it was a very respectable kiss.”

“I noticed,” Casey replied, putting his hand on Chuck’s chest. “That was the problem, brown eyes.”

“I didn’t realize – oof.” Chuck ended it there, only because he found himself flat on his back, bony knees and sharp angles digging into solid muscle and bulk. “Ow ... ow ....”

“Damn.” Casey put his elbows on either side of Chuck’s arms to support his upper body. “Your ribs? I didn’t ... hurt you, did I?”

“No – ah.” Chuck made a frustrated sound, and whether he meant to or not, he did Casey a favor by trying to adjust his hips under him. “There. Better.”

“You sure?”

“It’s okay. I’m not breakable.” The kid smiled up at him. “It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to be your mattress right then.”

“Oh, you’re funny.” Casey was already occupied by drawing one hand up and under the kid’s shirt, feeling Chuck practically vibrating underneath his body. “But I wasn’t expecting an apology lacking that much eagerness,” he said a little low and husky. “More ... like this.”

Casey bent toward him, planting a tender kiss under the edge of his jaw. Just a little kiss, right kid?

“I see what you mean. That’s ... nice,” Chuck said in an interested murmur. He closed his eyes, but otherwise stayed still and let Casey show him by bringing his mouth to his.

“Nice has nothing to do with it, kid,” Casey rumbled against his mouth. Then clasping a handful of thick brown hair, Casey’s tested Chuck’s willingness by sinking his teeth gently into the kid’s bottom lip, once again when Chuck responded by parting his lips.

Want a little more? Taking the invitation, Casey moved his mouth, sweeping his tongue lightly over Chuck’s lips before pressing more firmly, demanding him to open up further.

To his surprise, the kid was on board with this so far. Seemed to be all in and eager. As Casey’s mouth coaxed his, he felt Chuck increase the pressure, teasing his lips with the tip of his tongue. Casey pressed harder, and reacting to the incursion, Chuck’s hand splayed on Casey’s chest, and he caressed the smooth muscle, drew a few fingers inside his shirt.

Casey liked the boldness from the kid, and the confidence Chuck showed in that moment had Casey’s lower belly stirring. Even after last night – just a tiny taste of him – he had to have more.

The need to show the kid what he wanted forced Casey to break the kiss. Pulling back, he moved slightly, down and to the left, to breathe against the side of Chuck’s neck. He was warm there, too. Everywhere. “All you have to do is let me take care of you ... make you remember why we’re doing this.”

A swallow under his lips. “I could ... never forget.” Chuck unhesitatingly angled his head to the side a bit, offering Casey more of that smooth flesh at his throat.

So of course Casey indulged in a light neck bite. His hand, under the kid’s shirt, traveled upward, gently over his ribs until his thumb found a small nub of his nipple. Sensitive, Casey remembered, and he drew the pad of his thumb over one of them, then pinched.

Chuck made a little noise, arched his back. Well, that? It only made Casey scrape his hard flat nipple with the edge of his fingernail a few more times just to hear it. Listening to him was one matter, but watching his reaction was immeasurably better; sexy as hell and a kind of foreplay all its own, enough to make Casey lift his head to see the kid biting down on his lips, eyes squeezed shut.

“Looks like you remember that much, at least,” Casey breathed against his ear. Another pinch. “Like that?”

“Oh – it’s ... we should -”

“Got that right.” Casey lifted the hem of Chuck’s shirt and replaced his thumbnail with the edge of his teeth, tracing the nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Like it when I do that?”

“Oh shit.” Chuck’s voice broke, his back arching up to bump Casey’s chest. “Mm -”

“Yeah, want a little more?” Casey growled, bringing his hand up to the side of his head, fingers sliding through dark hair, caressing his scalp, stroking. Every part of him beneath the belt emulated the stroking, his body rubbing the kid’s in a slow rhythm, Chuck’s response digging into the front of his jeans.

This was the kind of apologizing he had in mind, and if he wasn’t too busy moving his hips in a slow, dragging stroke, he’d tell him what came next. Getting sucked off by that pretty mouth was just the thing to send a man off to his watery grave.

Hell, he could even teach the kid a new trick. With their bodies stretched out on the blanket, Casey could ease into the other direction, and he’d be more than happy to return the favor at the same time. Wouldn’t even have to take their pants off all the way, and the kid and his skittishness would bend, getting licked tip to balls.

If he’d let him.

When Casey brought his hand down, his grip slid to the kid’s wrist, just caressing the pulse. And he kissed, not along the sharp bone of Chuck’s shoulder, but down, teasing his ribcage beyond the rucked up shirt. Rubbing his stubbly cheek along his abdomen. He raised his head and moved his hips, laying his body in the opposite direction along Chuck’s legs. Gratefully, dumb luck had sent him a man nearly the same height as him, and he hoped the kid would be willing to test out one of reasons it was handy.

“What – what are you doing down there?” Chuck lifted his head from the blanket to give him a questioning look. “Ah! Not nice!”

Casey shut him up by biting him through his jeans. “Seems nice to me, pancake.”

Maybe he’d get the hint. Maybe he’d have to be told that reciprocation was the point. If it took Casey getting the kid’s cock in his mouth before the genius figured it out, well, there were worse things. But to be certain those dark eyes were catching on, Casey used his teeth to trap the denim-clad bulge before letting go.

“That’s nice, too, isn’t it,” Casey said, teasing with his teeth along the buttons.

“Oh, so not fair ....” Chuck mumbled, shifting his hips.

“It can be fair, kid.” Casey clamped one hand down on his knees, holding his squirming lover, and dragged another over to give him a healthy squeeze through the pants. “You’re getting it now ....”

“Oh God ... Wait ... wait.” Chuck’s gasp held Casey where he was. Moving his hand, the kid took hold of Casey’s shirt, a few fingers dropping inside to caress the collarbone. “We can’t, John. Not yet, okay? No matter how badly ....”

Casey lifted his head to stare at him. It would be so easy to do it. A few more love bites on the front of his jeans, cupping his hard length, and the kid would be jerking and moaning for him. Hell, begging for it. Nothing like a nice surrender, asking for his mouth and tongue –

Except ... Bryce.

Goddamn son of a bitch. That god-awful name. Why was he even thinking of that fucker right now?

But as Casey was engulfed by the kid’s intense eyes, he knew. Why? Giving in to urgent need, sweeping him along in the torrent, making him do it, would turn Casey into a man like just like Bryce. Not giving him a choice to stop, say no. It’d make him dirty and greasy, taking what he shouldn’t.

The thoughts were a quiet nudge to sanity. Casey pulled away, rolled over on his back and closed his eyes. “Christ, you’re going to kill me.”

“Casey ....” Chuck was still breathing, fast, deep, and Casey could see his fingers reflexively convulse on the blanket. “We can’t do that again.”

“Really, kid,” Casey said, lifting his head. “Because I think we should be doing that as often as God is willin’.”

Chuck looked up only long enough to roll his eyes before he let his head flop down again. “That’s what I mean. Right now? It’s too ... well, volatile.”

“Lucky me. Found a man who can think with a hard on.” And oh, Casey wanted to bite him again for that.

“Hah. Let me remind you – your -” and Chuck made a lewd gesture, “was pressed on my – okay, we – cannot let that happen.”

“Put your hand down. Look like an imbecile.” Casey stared up at the sky and let out a breath. “Though another hand job would work – granted, that choice is towards the bottom of the list.”

“See? Right there. That’s what I mean,” Chuck said, putting an arm under his head. “I’m sure you remember the ‘Hands-Off’ policy? Until we get to St. Louis?”

“Wasn’t planning on putting my hand there, muffin.”

“You’re overly literal – hm. I think I knew that.” Chuck started to look him over until he realized it would only draw attention to something he shouldn’t be staring at. Jeans were still on, but Casey’s shirt had somehow become rucked up in the process, and he didn’t remember when the first few buttons came undone. “Consider the policy amended, Casey. Hands or other weapons. Happy now?”

“Immensely,” Casey grumbled, pulling his shirt down. When he rolled off, he had ended up about two feet away from a pair of long legs, and he guessed it was a safe distance for now. “God, I almost forgot what a little cock tease you are.”

“Me?” Chuck repeated sullenly, trying to cover the front of his jeans. “I had nothing to do with that.”

Casey frowned, not able to argue the point. “Wanna go to the creek?”

“Subtlety isn’t your thing, is it?”

“I could stay here ... that way you can get cleaned up.”

Chuck looked over to see he was serious, and he put his hand on Casey’s leg. “No. I’m good here,” he said, letting out a breath. “This is nice. I want to ... stay like this for a while.”

Casey stretched his legs down to his toes in silent agreement. If only they could just lie here, drugged by the surroundings and the heat of the sun, just a little longer. Only if they could stay that way.

No such luck.

The last thing Casey wanted to do was to tell him they should be packing up. In a few minutes, he would have to find his boots, but this was kind of comfortable. Laying on their backs, watching the canopy of leaves flitter in the wind, the kid’s hand absently playing with the hem of Casey’s shirt, it was easy to forget their troubles.

“I accept your apology, cupcake,” Casey said after a long silence, tucking a hand under his head to pillow it. “You want to know what I’m sorry for?”

“I couldn’t even venture a guess.” Chuck slanted him a curious look. “I just hope it’s not ... finding a farm a few months back.”

Luckiest day of my life.

It wasn’t until Chuck lifted his head to grin at him that Casey realized he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

“Me too,” Chuck said, reaching over to brush his hand over Casey’s thigh. Casey was thankful they were still laying head to feet in the sun, because not looking into Chuck’s eyes after that soul-baring confession was the only thing that kept him where he was.

“You’re a pain in the ass, though,” Casey said before the kid got to cocky. He slid his hand to the side and caught Chuck’s calf, wrapped it in a relaxed hold. If he lay there any longer, however, holding onto what he wanted so much, he’d say or do something even more irresponsible. Say something no one was ready to hear.

“Casey, what are you sorry for, then?” Chuck asked, shifting to lay his head back on Casey’s calf.

Casey looked down at him and cleared his throat. “Just sorry I didn’t meet you ten years ago.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“That little stunt you pulled at the bank?” Casey slowly drew his hand up the back of Chuck’s thigh, careful not to go too far. “The way you put on that not guilty look of a kid – no, an attorney,” he corrected, chuckling, “who couldn’t hurt a fly? And the ‘you should trust me smile’? Heh.”

Chuck’s brows creased. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it? And I feel I should point out, I can’t help those other things – that’s just me.”

“And that’s why I wish I had met you ten years ago.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Ten years ago ... I was still a – let’s call it lone entrepreneur, specializing in financial institutions.”

Chuck’s head cranked up. “My God! You did rob banks!”

“Crass term, kid,” Casey observed, dragging his hand down to the inside of Chuck’s knee. “I preferred ‘appropriation of monetary assets for the common man’.”

“And in this scenario, you are the common man, correct?”

“Are you gonna keep using my leg for a pillow?”

“Way to avoid the question,” Chuck said, lifting his head to let Casey roll over on his side. “But what in the world would that have to do with me?”

Casey draped his arm around the kid’s knees and got up on one elbow. “Look at you, brown eyes. With that innocent act of yours -”

“-it’s not an act, thank you -”

“– and my street smarts to get the job done ....” Casey regarded him with an interested eye. “We could’ve cleaned out every bank west of the Rio.”

Chuck’s jaw dropped. “You are out of your mind, you know that?”

“See, right there.” Casey’s smile shifted to devious. “That’s the look no one would doubt.”

“Here’s something you may not have contemplated, entrepreneur.” As Chuck propped himself up on his elbows, his fingers brushed Casey’s ankle affectionately. “Let’s see, you told me your age –”

“Hell no, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did - when we were back at the farm? So ten years ago ... huh, that would put you at thirty – and me? I was almost a whopping seventeen.”

Casey narrowed his eyes. “Shut the hell up.”

That only encouraged him. “And that means if we did get caught,” Chuck continued, starting to smile, “you wouldn’t be put in jail for burglary. You’d be locked up for defiling a virtuous boy – while teaching him to rob banks. Quite the story to put on your wanted dead or alive poster, wouldn’t it?”

“God, I should’ve fucked your brains out when I had the chance,” Casey mumbled, closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face. He could practically feel the kid thrumming with the laugh he was holding back. “You make a lot more sense when you can’t talk.”

“Have you always had a penchant for younger men?” The all too innocent smile threatened to split his face. “A bit slender? Puppy eyes?”

“Well, I have a penchant right now to kick your skinny ass. Does that count?”

“Because if we’re being honest,” Chuck said, ducking his head away to hide his eyes, “even back then, I had a thing for, well, muscles and um, hairy chests.”

Casey laughed. “Using me, huh?”

“Busted.” The kid waggled his brows and reached down to take the hand Casey had on his knees, twined it with his. “So I can’t guarantee I would’ve stayed in high school if you had showed up on my doorstep with the right offer.”

“Still talking, little smart ass?” Casey asked, whacking his leg playfully. “Get up before I change the policy to include bending you over a stump until you howl, eh?”

“Only if you do it right,” he thought he heard Chuck whisper.

After that, the kid stumbled to his feet, and his color was rising a little more. It was hard to tell whether it was the sun on the bedroll, the warmth of his body being close, or that Chuck had been flirting with him a little dirtily. But his ruffled appearance did remind Casey that he liked tall boys who could look at him as if he was a fallen angel, six feet of wings stretched out, not yet lost.

“Oh, I’ll do it right, you can count on that, pancake.”

And if he thought about this any longer, they’d break about ten of the kid’s rules. They had to get back. The sooner this is over, the sooner they’re together, shed themselves of these burdens.

Chuck’s lips curved, and he bent down, dropping a kiss on Casey’s temple. “It will be like this every day, won’t it?”

“You’re a dreamer, kid.” One more thing he loved about him, not that he would ever tell him that. “Grab the pack. Back to Black Rock – time to finish this.”

-x-

“Where have you been?” The older woman wasn’t fooling anyone with that line, because Casey guessed she knew as well as he did. “This place isn’t the same without you, laddie.”

“Those lazy cusses wouldn’t bring in the firewood for you?” Casey asked her, pushing the kitchen door closed behind him. “I think you missed having a strong back around, that’s all.”

“That, too.” Jo smiled and set her coffee pot down on the giant potbelly stove. “But I do miss a handsome face.”

“It was only a few days, bean d’aois,” Casey said, taking off his hat. He looked down at his dusty clothes, but didn’t dare brush them off in the ornery woman’s kitchen. “I brought you a few rabbits. Shot them while we were on the trail an hour ago.” No matter how much the kid had yelped about how cute they were, and shouldn’t he let them eat the wild berries unscathed?

Probably, but too bad.

“Aye, set them there, Johnnie.” Wiping her hands on an apron, she nodded at the pine counter. “I’ll skin them for dinner. Starving, button?”

“I’ll take a bath first, if there’s any hot water on the stove.”

“Shoo – off with you, then, you big oaf.” Jo waved a dish towel towards the stairs, the sunlight slanting through the window making her tidy auburn hair gleam. “I’ll bring up a few buckets and start filling the tub.”

“Thank you, Josephine.” Casey used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “I’ll take some bread and cheese with me if you have it.”

The woman rolled her eyes at his antics – they always worked – and went to the pantry. “I saw ... the boy with you,” she said without looking at him, “when you came in a while ago.”

Casey didn’t look at Jo. “I figured Liam would be pissed if I didn’t bring him back.”

“Suppose he’s hungry, too?” she wondered.

“Not that I want to play nursemaid to the little jack-off,” Casey said blandly, “but yes, he might be. Should feed him I suppose since he did manage to fix the engine.”

“Mr. Doherty will be happy, at least.” Jo moved to her cupboard, dug around, and her hands were full when she turned to him. A half loaf of bread, some cheddar, a jar of peach preserves. “After your bath, you two can share this until supper’s ready.”

“If I want to share with the little twit,” Casey grumbled, taking it from her. A bottle of fresh milk was proffered next. He gave a half-shrug and took it. Saved him from having to plunder her larder later when the eagle-eyed woman turned her back. “I might give him a swallow of it.”

“Don’t try that on me, Johnnie.” Reaching up, Jo cuffed him on the side of the head. “I think he’s needled under your skin, tu holc. I see the way you keep an eye on him.”

“Giant sap? I only did that so the little fucker doesn’t -”

“John!”

“Excuse me, so the little sneak doesn’t try to stab me with a pitchfork again.”

“Not foolin’ me.” The woman made a tsk sound and turned her back to him, grabbing a knife. “Let’s start with the skinny one.”

“What?”

“Rabbit, laddie.”

“Say that then.” Casey lifted the slack rabbit and laid it on her cutting board, sobered by her apparent awareness. How the hell? His movements had been careful, but obviously he was being monitored. There was no fooling himself, either. All the shields in the world were no match when a female set her mind to something.

“Where’s Liam?” he asked, snatching two apples from a basket.

“Those are for pie,” Jo said curtly without turning.

Casey grunted and tossed them back in with the others. “Liam?”

“A telegram came this morning. Whatever it was ... well, he packed his bag after that. Rudy was with him. I think they went to the train station.”

“The train station?”

“Mm.” Jo stole a look at him from over her shoulder. “Said he’d be back by the end of the week.”

Casey turned, his gaze sweeping over her, not daring to turn his focus towards the window past the barnyard. Goddamn it, now what? Casey’s plans didn’t have room for any of this bullshit. “Where is he?”

Jo turned, stabbed, and began sawing away at the rabbit’s neck. “Mr. Doherty isn’t in the habit of sharing his business with me. That’s all I know, boyo.”

“Need any firewood brought in? Because I’m sure I could get those other two helpful hoot owls to -”

“The only other thing I know,” Jo cut in, tearing a joint from the rabbit carcass, “is that there’s a note on your bed.” She looked up to cock a brow at him. “Maybe you should go read it?”

Casey returned the favor by giving her the stink-eye. “Could’ve mentioned that earlier, don’t you reckon?”

“I mentioned it now, didn’t I? And I could use the firewood before you head up for the bath.”

For the short time he had here, it wasn’t worth ruffling the old hen. The sands of time were running out for this place either way. Tonight, he’d enjoy watching the kid get his strength back by eating his way through her larder.

-x-

Tossing his hat on the dresser, Casey walked over to the bed and snatched the envelope from the top of his coverlet. He sat down and kicked off his boots, but what he was doing was burning a minute or two before reading the words on the paper. Liam never went off the books. Something had happened, and he knew instinctively it would be dangerous. And that it would affect the kid in some way.

He pulled a knife from his belt and sliced the seal.

‘Johnnie,’ it began. Casey quickly scanned the letter, immediately sensing he should be concerned with how short it was. Fewer details, more risk. What was the bastard leaving out?

Time to find out how fucked up this just got. Casey started reading from the beginning, his jaw tightening as he took in the first few lines.

‘It seems our friend Connolly has decided to cooperate with Black Rock after all. He’ll be with the boy’s father to sign over the property to us. This means, laddie, that Mr. Gould cannot be part of the transaction.’

Casey briefly lowered the letter, wondering what the hell this had to do with him. It tickled his mind, just in the foggy perimeter, but the name was vaguely familiar.

After a few seconds, it hit him. Mr. Gould. The job he had pulled the day Connolly’s man shot him in the shoulder. The need to hide that led him to the farm that night. Mr. Gould, the conman from UP who tried to buy Connolly’s holdings for a song.

To them, Casey was Gould. Not one of his most stellar disguises, either. The entire heist was a cluster, from the twitchy guard to Liam coming out squeaky-clean and all the blame on him.

But the outcome, now sitting in the barn and sleeping off the trip, couldn’t be discounted. That fucked-up deal led him, guided blindly by the hand of Fate, to the kid that night.

Casey skimmed over the lines again. That magnanimous big prick. It appeared Liam’s slant was to protect Casey from being recognized by Connolly. In doing so, it meant putting Chuck in danger by separating them.

‘You’ll stay back at Black Rock, out of sight, until we sign the deal. I’ve told Jacob and Sam to bring the boy to Colorado Springs, to the offices of South Park. They’ll leave tomorrow and take the trail to meet us there. The boy’s father will be waiting.’

It ended there.

Casey folded the letter crisply, resisting the urge to ball it up with his fist. As he set it down on the cover, he felt an odd spike in his belly. Spreading, oozing like grease.

Nerves.

Fuck. When the hell did he even get nerves – like a big pussy, anyway?

But what he read made him sick.

All this time, keeping him from harm, hiding the truth, knowing he could never reveal a hint, and now he had new orders. Turn him over to the ones that had beaten him, starved him. On top of that, the act of throwing out the orders would only feed the already swelling suspicions.

Jo was a case in point. Maybe she overheard something. Maybe she mentioned it to her boss.

Casey didn’t move for a moment, but before long, his blue eyes shifted to the window. At last, he got up to look over at the barn, thinking of the young man who trusted him. Had faith Casey would take care of him. He had made a promise, one he would keep with his life.

The light knock on the door made him swing around just as Jo entered lugging two buckets. “Nice knock, Josephine,” Casey said, folding his arms over his chest. “I could’ve been naked for all the warning you gave.”

She looked him up and down appreciatively, and winked. “A woman can have hope, can’t she? Now get those things off and put them in the basket.”

Casey huffed out his annoyance, his mind still stuck back on the letter. The urge to punch something bubbled up in him – hell, the release of brute force would be liberating - but cold logic told him to lay low and sort out this goddamn mess.

“And bring down the dirty clothes after you’re done,” she said, spilling each bucket into the tub. “Supper should be ready by then. Oh, what was in the note?”

“Nothing a nosy old goat would be interested in. Pretty cheeky of you to be asking,” he added under his breath.

“Pfft.” She raised her inquisitive eyes, registering his displeasure. “So many secrets, the bunch of ya.”

“For good reason,” Casey muttered, adding a few more choice words. With his back turned, he started to strip off his dirty shirt until he noticed Jo had yet to leave the room. He pivoted, put a finger in the air and made a small circle. “Better skedaddle unless you want to get a view of another secret -”

“Hm?”

“My ass, Josephine.”

Jo made a noise and picked up the buckets. “Now who’s being cheeky, lad? And yours is fine, by the way.”

Casey sent her an arch look. “How the hell would you know?”

“You’re not the only one with secrets,” the red-haired woman informed him. She picked up the buckets and started towards the door, but a thought made her turn. “That reminds me. There will be plenty for your young man out there. I’ll keep it on a separate plate in the oven.”

In the midst of shrugging his shirt off his shoulders, Casey stopped, catching her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. He searched it, looking for some secret hidden in the lines of her face.

She knows.

“Josephine, we need to –”

“No, actually, we don’t, laddie.” Moving quicker than he thought possible, she was suddenly at the doorway, eyeing him without fear. “I’ve witnessed enough in this place ... hurt and lies ... wrought on those who earned every ounce of it. But not this time.”

Casey raised one brow.

“That boy doesn’t deserve what has happened to him.” She pressed her lips together briefly. “And I can see you’ve taken a shine to him some whether you’ll admit it or not. Just ... make certain that one doesn’t get hurt.”

“You’re in no position to tell me this, Josephine.” Casey crossed his arms and rested a hip against the dresser, calmly watching her. “You should leave now ... I think I smell your rabbit burning in the stove.”

Jo started to open her mouth, but prudently knowing she would get nothing else out of him, she held her tongue.

As soon as she was gone, Casey turned to the idiot in the mirror, asking him what he would do now. Another crack in his plan, and the whole damn thing would slip through his fingers like rushing water.

-x-

When Casey brought Chuck his supper, the one he found in the oven just as Jo promised, he saw that the kid had fallen into the antsy behavior from a few days before. Not that he could blame him, but the last thing Casey needed was for Chuck to know the personal escort Liam had planned for him. Or Jo’s suspicion.

So as Chuck lay back on the blanket with a full belly, Casey gave him short, worthless answers to his myriad of questions. Did Liam suspect anything? Was there any word of his father’s arrival? And were those two no accounts still at Black Rock, or did they pick up and leave?

No two ways about it, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell the kid about the stick in the wagon wheel, mainly because he was going to find a way to stop it.

In order to shut him up, Casey bent over him and took a kiss. Knowing it was too dangerous – and tempting – to take it deeper, he pulled back before the heat swelled. “Be good,” he told him.

Just as Chuck opened his mouth to ask another question, Casey pushed the kid firmly onto his back, causing a face full of concern until Chuck saw it was only to get him to sleep.

A half hour later, Casey looked over at the sleeping man, his arm thrown over his eyes, his head cocked at a weird angle, and he had to wonder if Chuck even knew his own strength.

Casey got down on his haunches and considered him, ran a thumb over his unshaven cheek. The exhaustion had taken the kid under, the fear slowly evaporating, dragging him to unconsciousness.

Only then did Casey feel comfortable enough to say it out loud.

“Sometimes, I wish you would vanish or be one of those million dreams I’ve had,” he whispered to his sleeping lover, roughness in his voice. “Because now the thought of losing you, kid, is the same as my heart being torn from my chest.”

-x-

“God, I knew it,” Casey said, glancing at the kitchen table. “I could smell them before I saw they were here.” But if the two hoot-owls had noticed him coming in through the back door, they didn’t even bother looking up. Confirmed they were total morons not to at least acknowledge such a large threat.

Maybe they had a death wish between them. One, just for showing their ugly mugs up at the main house, and two, taking over Jo’s kitchen table to play a game of cards.

“Didn’t expect you back this soon,” Jo said, taking the empty food sack from him. “Supper met his approval, I see.”

“You’ve seen him. Hollow legs,” Casey answered. Choosing to ignore the little dick wads for a moment, he slipped his hat onto a peg and stayed next to the doorway, out of their earshot. “Can’t believe you let those two skunks into your kitchen, Jo.” He tipped his chin in their direction. “I can see they’ve been praying at the altar of Bacchus, too, from the looks of it.”

“Aye, drunk as fiddlers.”

“Then why did you let them in?” Casey asked, peering down at her. It wasn’t like Jo to let a few bad hounds desecrate her kitchen.

“Johnnie.” Jo took his sleeve and tugged. “Over here.”

“Watch the hands, woman,” Casey said between his teeth, relaying his disapproval at being touched. Her grip didn’t waver, however, and he found himself hauled through the doorway. “Let me guess. You need me to get rid of them?”

“Shh.” Abruptly, she stopped in the hallway. “Not yet.”

Casey tugged his sleeve free. “Jo. Explain.”

“Those two saddle bums.” Jo lifted her chin, stared him down. “Johnnie, something’s up. I know it.”

“Why don’t you explain what you heard,” he said bluntly, senses prickling at her pale expression.

“I told you. Are you deaf? Those two are brewing up some trouble.”

“Need a little more to go on here, Josephine,” Casey said, fixing his eyes on her face. “You overheard something?”

“Well, some ... maybe.”

“Ah, hell.” Casey shook his head. “What.”

“Say what you will. I’m never wrong when it comes to these things.”

“Let’s say I believe your little bout of clairvoyance,” Casey said, regarding her skeptically. “What’s going on?”

“I think the boy’s in danger,” she said.

Just then, a whoop came from one of the men in the kitchen, followed by the sound of cards hitting the table. Someone cursed the luck of his hand while the other cackled, apparently collecting his winnings.

Casey was about to take a few liberties with their cards, money, and his foot. But since Jo was studying him with hawk eyes, he remained impassive. “What did you hear,” he growled.

“It - it was vague, Johnnie, but I think it was about him.”

Her prying behavior made more sense now. The luckless kid, held as bait, had penetrated her armor as well. Even with the warnings in his head to tread cautiously, Casey’s hand automatically dropped to his gun belt. “Tell me who said it.”

“Easy, laddie,” Jo said. “I see I’m getting through to you, but hold on. You asked why I let them stay here.” Her eyes were glittering suspiciously. “I think they need a watchful eye tonight, those two hoodlums.”

“Watchful eye, huh?” Squinting past her shoulder, his hand shifted ever so slightly to the grip of his Colt. “I’ve got something else they may need.”

“Careful, Johnnie,” she warned, picking up on his thoughts. “I knew you’d be back from the ... barn after your duties, so I thought you might want to play cards with the boys.”

Casey pointed his glare past the doorway. It killed him to admit that she was right about a low-key game of cards to get men talking. “So you’re saying you’ll be pissed if I make a mess in your kitchen?”

“Ech. Get in there with you,” she hissed, shoving his shoulder.

“Jo. Look at me.” Casey stopped her with the rough thread in his voice, pulling her eyes upward to his face. “Tend to your female work upstairs. This is no place for you tonight.” He assessed her and then grunted. “Even an ornery old bitch like you.”

Casey figured he was poor at saying thank you, and that sentiment would have to suffice.

She gave a few comments, further cementing her as unwomanly, and left up the stairs.

-x-

The cusses were drunk, so drunk that it took a good five minutes until one of them noticed Casey, leaning a shoulder on the doorjamb, watching them studiously.

“Goddamn it all, look who’s here,” one of them finally drawled, pushing back in his chair. “Clean rags and smellin’ like rosy bath water.”

“You two already filled the room with the scent of dead things. Thought we’d change it up a little, eh?”

The scarred one took a second to understand the insult. Then he glowered over his cards at him. “What do you want, ya strapper?”

Taking a few steps forward, Casey tilted his head, his attention moving from one fact to the other. “Poker,” he said mildly, though being close enough to crush them made his hand ball up in a fist. “I’m looking to take some chances tonight. Why don’t you boys deal me in?”

“You kiddin’?” The one with brown teeth darted his eyes to Casey and then to his pal. “Hear that, Sam? Mr. Hotshot’s coming to join us measly pheasants.”

It took everything in his being not to pinch the bridge of his nose at this display of idiocy. He wasn’t about to explain why an asshole was indeed different from a long-tailed bird.

Despite being drunk – and assholes, Casey deemed – they were twitchy and on alert due to his presence. Casey’s sharp eyes caught the slight movement of Sam’s hand to his holster, and he answered that with putting his change purse on the table.

“Faro is usually my game,” Casey said, “but I’m willing to try my hand at five-card tonight.”

The jangle of the heavy leather sack caught their attention. “We might be able to bend our rules,” one of them said, “bring in a slinker like you. You up for some Chuck-A-Luck?”

Fucker. He did that on purpose.

“Draw Poker,” Casey said, letting his face relax into an easy grin. “Anything else reminds me of that mouthy twit up in the barn.”

Jacob mulled over the offer, snickered, and took a swig of whiskey from his glass. “Fine. We’re more’n happy to take your money off you if you’re willin’ to play. Our cards.”

Casey shrugged his indifference and slid into an empty chair, helped himself to a shot of their whiskey. Money was thrown on the table. Cards, with noticeable bends on a few of them, were dealt.

An ace. A four. Two of hearts. Nothing. He lost the first round before he had tasted the burn of another shot of whiskey.

“Deal me in again,” Casey said, and he settled back in the chair. Outside, rain began to pelt the windowpane, making him glance beyond it for a split second before turning his attention to them. “Time to even the score.”

“Lay your bet, then,” one of them demanded, grinning while he shuffled the deck.

Casey fished a few more coins from the sack and tossed them on the table. Cards slid in front of him. Queen of hearts. A two. The stacked deck gave him nothing. He could see that in spite of scar nose trying to keep his outward composure, the little turd was bursting with glee that Casey lost the hand again.

“Keep dealing,” Casey told them.

“You mean, keep dealing, so that we can keep stealing,” Rotted Teeth exclaimed, chuckling at his own lame-ass joke.

Never one to take the bait, Casey simply took another drink and waited for the hand to be dealt. Morons. Did they think he wouldn’t notice the curve of certain cards when they lay on the table? Any other night, he’d beat a dumb ass to the ground for trying to pull a move like that, but tonight, he didn’t care if they took the paltry amount in his change purse. Other motivations drove him to be here. He wanted to know what Jo couldn’t overhear.

A seven of spades. A three. A few more cards and Casey folded, watching the scar-nosed one scoop up the pot. Curiously, he also plucked a wooden match from his pocket and lined it up with a few others.

“Damn lucky,” Casey mumbled, reclaiming his shot glass. When he set it down, it was the first time he noticed that the other man had a half dozen wooden matches in a small pile next to his winnings as well. “Throw down another hand. Need to get my money back before you two high tail it out of here tomorrow with the little ass hat. Good riddance, too.”

“It’s a job,” Sam said, dealing the cards. “And too bad you can’t be the one to do it. Three days to get there when you can’t take the train. Shit. Hate sleeping on the ground ... eatin’ tack the crows wouldn’t touch.” He shook his head in disgust but then nudged his friend. “Luckily, we have ways to make the trip more ... interestin’.”

When he slurred over the word interesting, the man flicked his eyes towards the barn. Meaning Chuck, Casey knew. He’s their entertainment.

It took a heroic act to keep his eyes unreadable. Casey knew what had to be done now. Hell, face it. He knew before the first card was thrown. Chuck would never leave with them.

And yet, he needed to hear it from the two skunks, a way to vindicate his actions tonight.

It was no surprise to anyone when Casey lost the next hand. And the next. For a reason he hadn’t figured out yet, the pile of matchsticks next to each of the other men grew with each win.

Another hand, same results. “Hell, that’s it,” Casey said dryly. Gauging the weight of his coin purse, he dumped the last few nickels onto the table and poured himself one final shot. “If you win this hand, I’m out.” He paused to take a swig, wishing he could punch the grins from their faces. “Unless you’re willing to let me play your side bet you have going on over there.”

“Side bet?” Jacob asked, exchanging a cagey look with Sam. Trying to play stupid seemed to suit him. “Don’t know what you mean by -”

“I meant the matchsticks.”

Casey’s calm directness rattled Sam for a moment. “What about ‘em?”

“You obviously have another game that you’re playing,” Casey said, his blue eyes sharp as needles. “Maybe a new set of rules I don’t know about yet.”

“Nothin’ to do with you,” Sam argued, his rat eyes darting to his friend for support. “Just our own bet between us.”

“I’m out of money. I want in.” Casey straightened his shoulders, leaned forward and put a big hand on the last of his money. “The game. I want to know what it is.”

“Nah. Let’s play – one more hand.”

“Did you hear more money jingling in that purse?” Casey could force a smile with the best of them, and he did, knowing it teetered on the ‘I’m ready to kick your asses’ variety. The trick was to make them think they could relax. Make them think that it was a game. “Or are you two boys worried lady luck is going to turn in my favor? Because you seem to have her watching over you.”

“Aw, hell, Sam.” Jacob met the eyes of his partner and lifted a shoulder. “What’s the harm? This big fella hates the kid as much as we do, doesn’t he? We can at least tell him. Doesn’t mean he gets to play.”

Even then, Sam wasn’t convinced, filling the gap of his indecision by taking a long pull of whiskey. As he set the glass down, twisting it between his fingers, the dirty prick barked out a laugh. “Suppose so,” he finally agreed. “This doesn’t mean you’re in, though.”

“Yeah? Give me some of those.” Casey nodded at the matches. “And tell me what we’re playing for.”

In that moment, Jacob told him.

Casey’s only movement was to roll a few matches between his fingers, then laying them down before he took the last pull of whiskey. He wiped a hand over his mouth, his eyes stilled with practiced stoicism.

The words made him physically ill.

“See, Jacob. You shoulda kept your mouth shut. Now he wants in.”

“I think you’re wrong there.” Casey rose, pushing his chair back. “I’m gonna have to end your little game, boys.”

In a move that was both lightning quick yet mechanical, Casey unlatched the leather hook on his gun belt before the idiots could blink at him. He raised a stout arm, leveled his gun, and took aim at the one who had revealed their game.

“Shit! What’re you -”

Casey’s bullet took Jacob in the kidney, the second entered a few inches below the place his heart would be if he had one. The force of the gunshot took him clean off the chair, slamming him down to the floor. Greasy cards flew.

“Hey!” Sam shouted, stumbling up to his feet, trying to turn. “What the hell –”

Growling his fury, the crack of another shot slammed a bullet into his Sam’s temple, resulting in a spurt of blood. The satisfaction of hearing the break of bone and cartilage and a cry of pain was matched only by watching him stumble over his fallen comrade.

Casey landed a kick in the prone man’s midsection, not yet ready to have him die without hurting him more. Fist clenched on his Colt, he glanced down at the two pieces of pond scum and landed another kick just in case one could still feel anything. Doubt it, though. That was a lot of blood.

“Assholes,” Casey muttered, lowering the Colt an inch or two. “Sorry about the mess I made of your card game, eh? Didn’t mean to have Lady Luck crap in your whiskey.”

“Johnnie.”

Jo stood in the doorway, breathless, clutching a book to her chest. There was sufficient light from the kerosene lamp to reveal she held a Bible, the flimsy pages open where she had slid a piece of paper to mark her place.

Wasn’t that a kicker? Casey had never taken her for the Bible-reading type, and odder still a Bible could be found within ten miles of this place. Maybe she kept it close to ward off the evil spirits.

“Jo, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Laddie,” she said softly, looking down at the floor. “What have you done?”

Jaw rigid, Casey glimpsed down at their bodies. Even in the semidarkness, the wrath in his snapping blue eyes warned her to stay back. “They told me what they had planned for the kid.” He kept his attention on her face as she cast a look towards the window. “I stopped them from doing it.”

“Oh ... mo milis,” she murmured, putting a hand close to her throat. “You did ... what you had to.”

Casey shook his head and stepped forward. “Jo, tell me what you’re going to do.” It came out more threatening than he had intended. “You saw it. You know.”

The woman stared at him a long moment, then turned her head away. “A heart that devises wicked plans,” she whispered, “Feet that run rapidly to evil, these are an abomination to Him.”

“The hell, Jo,” Casey gritted out, his heart tripping. “Quoting verses to me now? Answer the question. What are you going to do?”

Jo was barefoot he noticed, and as she rounded the table, she was careful to sidestep the growing pool of blood. Setting the Bible down, she touched his arm, the one still holding the Colt. “Johnnie, put it away. And grab a leg. Take the bigger one first. We’ll hide them in the pig’s pen. Just bones and hide will be left by breakfast tomorrow.”

“Jo, I can’t ask you to be part of –”

“Hush, you big lout.” Jo placed her hands on her ample hips and gave one a little toe tap, perhaps worried he was still breathing. “After that, well, you and the boy ... will have to run. You know ... he’s going to come for you.”

“I know.” Casey stuffed the Colt in his holster and raised a hand against her saying another word about it. The other changes that stunned him now would have to be sorted out later. “One more thing, we’re burying them. Jesus, Jo. A pig pen?”

Jo grunted thoughtfully, motioned to him to get moving. “I’ll never understand you, Johnnie. Even now, after everything those two pigs said and did, here you are, trying to be noble.” She rummaged in a wooden box by the door, taking a pair of delicate ladies’ shoes from it. “But I’ve got to ask you. Why bury them?”

“That would make me one of them,” Casey said, and he quickly stepped back and swiped his hat from the peg by the door. His voice went lower, an admission to keep hidden. “I’d ... never be able to look that kid in the face again.”

Jo arched a brow at him, but her face became serious. “After we lay them in the ground, you go. Both of you.”

Casey nodded. What could he say to that? She was right, of course. They were fugitives now.

-x-

Later, Casey walked with her to the main house one last time. The silence between them brought disquieting thoughts, the smell of turned fresh earth. Later still, he left her with just a polite peck on the cheek, and he hated to see her thumb away a tear. Women. Who understood them?

As he pushed the door open and let the chilly night air take him, he didn’t bother looking back. He didn’t need to say good-bye to this place.

All the years he had been thinking that being here gave meaning to him.

Now that he found something worthwhile, he knew this place only took his life up until this moment; the world, and a young brown-eyed man, opened up the promises around him.

His only job now was to keep them alive. Only long enough to fulfill them.

x- End Chapter Thirteen Sins Fell Angels-x-


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Fourteen

-x-

Chuck sat up and kept perfectly still, aware of his breath catching in his throat. What the hell was that? The cracking sound had snapped him to alertness from his deep doze, making his heart jack-rabbit against his ribcage.

“Gunshots?” he murmured, but it couldn’t be. Had to be a nightmare, and God knows he had the right to them.

Wrapped inside the blanket, the kid tossed and turned for what he guessed was another hour. Just as he started to drift off, a different noise below startled him. Every ounce of his focus turned to the creak of footsteps on the stairs that led up to the loft.

God, now what? Adrenaline made him sit up taller as he listened, but he silently scolded himself for being an untrusting idiot. Hadn’t Casey told him to have faith, trust the plan he had set in motion? Hell, he had drummed it through his head the day they spent at Silver Plume, and for good measure, laid it on thick for most of the way back to Black Rock.

And even as they arrived hours ago, Casey’s last words were a grumble about getting it through the head of the most stubborn man he had ever met. Chuck decided it wasn’t time to point out the obvious.

The kid had halfway opened his mouth to call out to Casey, but wisely caught himself. What if it wasn’t him? If he used his name, would anyone become suspicious?

When the footsteps hit the upper landing, Chuck stiffened and curled his arms around his knees. Whoever it was, they were in a big damn hurry, and that fact alone made the hairs on his arms stand up.

A key rattled in the lock. Quickly, Chuck skimmed the tiny room where Casey had stowed him before dinner, the same cell he had been shoved in since coming to Black Rock.

It occurred to him that he should be a little more prepared for unannounced visitors if he was going to be partners with the biggest badass he had ever laid eyes on.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said under his breath, and he reached around blindly on the floor. A blanket, his tin plate he had almost licked clean of his dinner, loose straw. Great. Of course there was nothing he could use to defend himself if that wasn’t Casey.

As the door swung open, Chuck hated the fact that he lurched backwards. His confusion expanded when he saw the person wasn’t carrying a lantern, which made it almost impossible to discern the identity of his bewildering intruder.

“Who’s – who’s there?” Chuck blurted, snatching up the plate. Nice weapon. Maybe it could pull double duty as a blade or boomerang to the head. “Don’t come any closer!”

There was a grunt in response. Chuck had met the other men at Black Rock, so that didn’t quite narrow it down.

He squinted up at the figure in the doorway. Well, tall figure. It struck him that there were only two people at the farm who had shoulders who could fill the doorway like that. One of them was a man who had tried to steal his life. The other was a man he had willingly given his soul.

“Answer me! Stay back, or - or I’m going to have to use this!”

“Did you really just bring a tin plate to a gunfight, moron?”

Chuck was about to whip the plate at his head – or somewhere around there - but he came to a halt. “Well, hi to you, too! Did you expect me to just sit here if someone comes skulking up the stairs?” It came out slightly bitter, but did he have to scare the crap out of him like that? “What’re you doing, anyway? I thought you said -”

“Get up,” Casey interrupted, striding past him with barely a fleeting look to where Chuck sat on the floor. “Move it.”

Chuck blinked up at him as Casey peered through the cracks between the boards that covered the window. “Move? Such as – what are you looking at? Hey, what’s going on?”

“Anything else in here worth taking?” Casey’s eyes searched the room. He seemed to have his answer because he shook his head and held out his hand. “Nothing besides you, I guess. Let’s go, pancake.”

“Go?” Chuck’s brows flew up. He could blame the dark for not noticing until this second that Casey was in his take-no-prisoners mode. The kid had only witnessed it a few times, but he was certain Casey could throw a bull through a brick wall when he had that set to his jaw. “Is there a reason you’re – something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

Casey pushed his hat back on his head before he pulled Chuck to his feet. “We’re leaving.”

“What? You said we needed to stay here! I was the one who wanted us to leave when we had the chance!” Chuck was babbling, but the about-face was news to him. “Are you – you’re not listening, are you?”

Casey proved the hunch by pulling him out into the hallway. “Try to keep your mouth shut from here on out. We don’t need to draw any attention to ourselves. Might be someone else in the bunkhouse.”

“Where’s your boss? And what about those two guys who used me for a punching bag?” Chuck took hold of Casey’s shoulders before he could be propelled down the stairs. “I thought we were doing all of this to cover our tracks – and what about the money –”

“Shut up about the money.” As Casey met his eyes, his jaw was clenched with the fierceness of a man who would tolerate no protest. “Let’s go. This is taking too long.” He easily disengaged Chuck’s hand from his shoulders and took him by the arm to thrust him forward. “Get down the stairs. I’ll get Vic saddled up for the trip. There’s an Appaloosa in the stall next to her.

“Wait! We’re going somewhere?”

“Nothing gets by you, kid. Now move.”

Chuck was bustled all way down the narrow dark staircase before he could stop the larger man’s momentum. “Would you hold on? Have you heard a single question I’ve asked? Why are we slinking away like thieves in the night? Oh, no offense,” he added.

Casey shoved Chuck past Vic’s stall and right up to the gate of the other horse. “Get in there,” he ordered. “Saddle her up.”

“Saddle her? Hang on!”

“Do it.”

Chuck could hardly believe he was being crowded into a stall with a strange horse that seemed to be giving him the evil eye. “But what if she – I don’t know, doesn’t like me or something. She’s looks temperamental. Or hungry. I can’t tell when she’s glaring at me like that.”

Casey, in the midst of cinching Vic’s saddle strap, poked his head over her back to show him what a real glare could do. “She’s docile, so don’t waste time trying to make friends. Just get a saddle on her.”

“But you haven’t told me why I’m doing this!” Chuck did, however, grab the saddle from the top rail of the stall. “This is crazy.”

Casey pulled a bridle from a hook and waved it at him. “If I look up one more time and see that you’re not doing what I ordered, I’m going strap this around your head instead of Vic’s and ride your ass out of here. Now move it, kid.”

“This saddle ... it’s a bit different than Jackson’s. I’m not sure -”

“That’s not how it goes,” Casey warned and gestured at it. “Cinch it up that way, and you’ll be riding her by the belly with your head hitting the ground. City boys,” he punctuated in a mutter.

Chuck held up both ends of the strap, studying them for a moment, and rolled his eyes. “Okay, how about this? I’ll saddle the horse while you tell me what’s going on. And you get bonus points if you can manage to explain it in something more than bear noises and telling me to -”

“Move your ass.” Casey was already placing the bit in Vic’s teeth, and he used his lead to berate the kid. “No. The other way. Okay, like that.”

“I know how put on a bridle,” Chuck mumbled, though this design wasn’t exactly like Jackson’s either, and the Appaloosa was looking at him funny. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Guide her out.” Casey took Vic’s lead rope and steered her out of the stall, his stern voice telling the kid his decision was not to be dissected or questioned. “Don’t look at her like that. They smell fear.”

“Thanks. Helpful.” Chuck scowled. Getting in front of the beast, he straightened his shoulders and gave her his best man–in-charge squint to offset the whiff of nervous city boy. “Let’s go. Walk.”

The horse put a look in her eye that Chuck didn’t trust and merely lifted one hoof to stomp the straw.

“Um, this one isn’t going to work.” Chuck dropped the reins and backed up a step, keeping a prudent distance from her hoofs. “Besides, I still don’t know why -”

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Of course she’ll work.” Casey turned to the horse and whistled between his teeth. “ ...h’yah .... There. Now pick up the reins. We’re leaving.”

Chuck gave him a boggled look. How the hell could he be so flippant about any of this? “Did they ... find out ... about us? Is that it? Wait. Is that my fault? Did I do something to -”

“It’s not your fault,” Casey said, finally making eye contact as he shoved the reins in his hand. “Stay here for a minute.”

“But what about –”

“Just stay there with the horses.”

As much as he wanted to demand Casey tell him what was going on, the kid had to admit to a certain curiosity. He watched him from the barn’s aisle way while Casey walked back into Vic’s pen.

“Okay, now what are you doing?” Chuck asked.

His answer was the sound of straw crunching under Casey’s boots. When the larger man reached the back of Vic’s stall, he stopped and got down on his knees. “Keep your eyes peeled towards the house,” he said, and he began to paw away at the loose straw.

Meaning, don’t watch? Well, heck no. Now thoroughly perplexed, Chuck stepped forward to peer over the top rail. It was too dark to see what he was doing. “Did you lose something? What’s back there?”

When it was obvious he wasn’t getting a response, Chuck huffed and stood there feeling useless. Casey stayed quiet except for the rustling sound, refusing to look over at him until he lifted an object out of its hiding place. Setting it in the straw, he glanced past his shoulder at the kid before turning his attention to the silver box. It wasn’t locked, so he simply flipped the top open.

“Is that – what’s in there – holy ... are you serious?”

“Why don’t you squawk a little louder?” Casey told him. “The folks in town didn’t hear you.” Still on his knees, he scooped up stacks of bank notes and silver certificates. When the box was empty, he thrust it back in the hole, covered it up, and motioned towards the horses. “Let’s go.”

“Money – is that the money we -”

“We? Mostly me, Carmichael,” Casey said, using his fake lawyer-slash-bank robber name as he stuffed the bills in his saddle pack. “I’ve been at this longer than you have.”

“It’s the money you’ve stolen from Liam, am I right?”

“I prefer to think of it as my payment for services, kid. Now come on. Take the lead rope and head for the door.”

Chuck couldn’t help it. He had to stare at the wad of notes. “My God, how – how much money was that, anyway?”

“Not all of it, brown eyes, but it’ll do for now. Getting you out of here first.” Casey grabbed Vic’s reins and he led her to the doorway, giving Chuck a head tilt to let him know that he should follow. “The rest of it will have to wait.”

“Beg pardon? Please tell me you’re not coming back here?”

Casey put out a hand as they reached the barn’s doorway. “Wait here.”

“Wait. Move your ass,” Chuck said, mimicking him. “Geez, make up your mind.”

“You forgot close your trap,” Casey continued, making Chuck wonder how he had heard that.

“You don’t have to be rude, you know.”

When Casey summarily ignored him, Chuck frowned at the back of Casey’s head and hugged one arm around his chest. Standing at the entry had given him a taste of the night air, his breath misting. It had definitely cooled down since he had been hauled up the stairs earlier in the evening.

Casey didn’t say a word as he scanned the yard for any movement. Satisfied that they were safe from God knows what, he gestured at the kid. “All right. Walk.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so ... I don’t know, intense?” As he rambled on, Chuck did obey, leading Satan’s Spawn out into the murky barnyard. “Not that the ‘Man of Stone’ look isn’t your baseline, but this is a bit off the scale, even for you.”

None of this was making Casey talk.

When he reached the barnyard’s gate, Casey turned to him. “Climb on the horse, kid. Stay on my tail. Do not deviate from the path. Got that?”

Chuck’s spine snapped straight. Maybe it was the overly brusque tone of voice, maybe it was Casey’s bullying, or maybe it was the thought of sitting atop a horse in league with the Devil. But whatever it was, the kid dug his feet in and folded his arms over his chest.

“All right,” he announced flatly. “That’s it.”

Casey, leading Vic through the gate, turned to him. “That’s it?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Chuck said, not moving. He was grateful Spawn had stopped as well, or the moment of standing up bravely to Casey could’ve been spent with his boyfriend picking pieces of him out of her hooves. “You heard me. Something is going on here – something very bad – and I deserve to know what it is. And ... I’m not going anywhere until you tell me.”

The gauntlet was laid. How was that for an ultimatum?

The kid had an inkling that Casey disliked ultimatums.

Confirming his intuition, Casey seemed to freeze for a second or two before he slowly wheeled around on him. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” the kid said, backing up a step. “Talk.”

Turning that over in his head, Casey gave Chuck a look. “Get on that damn horse,” he ordered, strolling in a step, “or so help me, I will use the back of your jeans for a handy nerd carrying case, and put your scrawny ass on that horse for you!”

“See? That’s what I was talking about!” Chuck argued. Faced with the prospect of getting tossed on the back of Satan, Chuck held up his hands and talked fast. “Whatever has gotten into you, John, I think it’s pertinent to point out a few things.”

“That I can throw you over my shoulder like a sack of corn and tie you to the saddle?”

“Not that in particular.” Chuck felt his back hit the fence post. He dodged around it, avoiding certain humiliation since Casey was still deliberately trying to trap him. “I know what you’re thinking, and -”

“You do, huh?”

“Y-yes, I do. You’re wondering where this bravery is coming from, right?”

“Bravery?” Casey scoffed. He continued to advance on the kid, immediately giving him the vision of a stalking cat. “I was thinking more along the lines of idiocy merging with a death wish if you don’t hold still.”

Chuck kept backing up. So much for heroism, but seriously who would not sidle out of the way when Casey’s nostrils flared like that?

“Before I have my life yanked by a chain again, you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Ah. Oh, crap.”

In the exact moment Chuck’s brain registered his shoulders smacking into the barn, Casey had already slapped his hands up on either side of him, trapping the kid between his arms.

“Um, hi there?” he said, plastering on a wheedling smile. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Casey wasn’t in the mood for games. “I need you to shut up and listen,” he growled, exasperation flavoring his tone. “This is one of those times when you need to trust me.”

“I do.” Without encouragement, Chuck put his hand on his Casey’s arm and squeezed. “But ... you never talk ... and I think we’re taking a big risk – and it’s me, isn’t it? I know you put my safety ahead of everything.” He swallowed, brushing his thumb over the swell of Casey’s bicep. “But I’m not helpless ... and when something happens that affects us both ... I need to know.”

Casey leaned into him. “There are some things you never need to know, kid.”

“God, you are stubborn.” Chuck let his head fall back with a thunk and looked up at the pitch-black sky, wondering what was going through Casey’s head because his face hadn’t even twitched. “I think I’ve proven that I trust you, but what else do I have to do to prove I’m your partner in this, John? Why can’t you tell me why we’re going to have to run from him? Don’t I deserve that much?”

Casey pressed his lips together, and Chuck furthered his plea by running his knuckles along the slope of his jaw. Something was terribly wrong, and though Casey would never show it, his body was now rigid.

“Yes,” Casey said at last, looking directly at Chuck. “I had to improvise.”

“You hate it when I improvise,” Chuck felt compelled to point out.

Casey drew in a breath and tilted his head in closer, and now Chuck had nowhere else to look. An aqua lake at night filled his vision. “You know what you don’t deserve, kid?”

“What?”

“You don’t deserve to have to leave with those two tomorrow morning.”

“But – I thought you would be the one who -”

“Moron,” Casey said to stop him. “Liam learned that a man who might recognize me is now with your father. He’s on the board of UP, and he’ll be there when they broker the deal.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Liam is protecting me.” Casey stared back at him and adjusted his hands, flattening the kid’s shoulders into the barn wall. “And by protecting me, our friend has put you directly in harm’s way.”

“How -”

“It’s two days to Colorado Springs - and they won’t risk putting you on a train.” As Casey’s expression changed, he pressed on. “Meaning you would spend two days ... and nights on the trail with those hoots.”

“Okay, fine,” Chuck said. “If the risk of running is too much, we don’t have to. You said it yourself - I’m stronger than you think.” Showing him, the kid moved his hand to Casey’s waist, letting his fingers dig into firm flesh. “If it means we get out of this cleanly, I can put up with a little smack to the jaw for a day or two, can’t I?”

Casey looked off towards the house. There was such a powerful darkness in his eyes that Chuck almost moved forward. To do what, he had no clue.

“I just left a card game with them.” Casey didn’t even glance at the kid, his stiff body posture confusing Chuck more than his words. “Small stakes, or so I thought, so I let the little fuckers cheat.”

“Did they say something about me?” Chuck asked tentatively. He felt the chilly night air erasing the layer of sweat that had popped up under his shirt. “Was that it?”

Out of his pocket Casey yanked a matchstick and held it up in front of Chuck’s eyes. “I wanted to find out why they were playing for these. Lined them up in a neat row for every hand they won.” He twisted it in his fingers and shrugged. “Not that it matters, but in the end, I think it was the one with rotten teeth who had the most.”

“Why is this important?” Letting his hand drop from Casey’s shirt, the kid leaned back against the wall, brows drawn together. “John, talk to me.”

Casey seemed to study the matchstick a bit longer before he tossed it down to the dirt. “The prize was you, brown eyes.

“M-me?”

“Mm.” Casey’s attention had weight and heat as he focused on him. “The challenge was to see who would get to rape you first. They wanted to hear you scream. Wanted to see if they could get you to forget how much you like dick.”

“I - why ....”

“Those two? Maybe got tired of waking up next to sheep.”

Why was Casey talking about sheep?! Was he insane? Chuck was suddenly thankful for the wall behind his back, keeping him standing since he’d hate to embarrass himself. “They ... wh-what?”

“You heard me.” Casey arched a brow at him and leaned in closer. “Rape. You should be familiar with the concept, considering your ass hat roommate?”

The minute Casey implied the name Bryce, the kid’s knees did become water. Why it had taken that much, he didn’t know. He only knew it made him sick.

“Oh my God oh my God -” Chuck put his hands on his thighs and doubled over, preparing to give up his dinner as he stared blearily at the ground. “This isn’t happening ....”

“Breathe, cupcake.” But wary of his boots, Casey backed away a step or two. “Just ... breathe, okay. It’s over.”

“O – over?” He was gasping. He was going to pass out if he didn’t get a hold of himself, and Casey would not appreciate the show. “What – what did you do?”

Casey cut that off by taking his arm, carting him towards the horses. “I did what I had to, kid. Like I said, there are some things you just don’t need to know.”

“They’re dead?” Chuck cringed that his voice had gone up two octaves. The world was beginning to stutter.

“If you even think about fainting, when you wake up, I’m going to be there to kick your ass.” Casey half-helped, half threw him on the back of Medusa. “Now get up there. And remember, she’s meek if you don’t talk.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Chuck muttered, wondering if he should stick out his hand and introduce himself to his boyfriend. Obviously, Casey had no idea who he was dealing with.

-x-

As Chuck stared blankly ahead, the dark thoughts swirled between his ears. Horrid images, things he didn’t want to think about. Ever. For the first time that he could recall, he had been stunned to utter stillness. Casey had to be thinking it was a good thing, though Chuck guessed his eerie silence would eventually become disquieting to his boyfriend.

But there were no words for this.

The kid broke out of his stupor when he almost steered the horse into the back of Vic, abruptly aware that Casey had pulled her to a halt.

“We’re stopping here for a few minutes,” Casey said, boots hitting the ground. He took a canteen from his pack and looked over at him. “Why don’t you climb on down, pancake.”

Chuck blinked over at him a few times, cleared the rust from his throat, but couldn’t come up with anything to say. Fine. He was happy to get off this damn horse, so he swung a leg down and hung on to the saddle horn until the world stopped swaying.

Surprisingly, the Appaloosa hadn’t kicked him in the teeth for leaning on her like that.

Since concepts like thirst and weariness were gradually returning to his existence, the kid dug around in Casey’s saddle bag and found an apple. He wasn’t sure if he should eat it, since he felt like he had been kicked in the gut for the fun of it. Why, he had no idea, because no one had touched him.

He watched as Casey walked off the trail to a narrow stream trickling between the rocks. He held the canteen under the run-off until it was full, and capped it off before filling another. The kid was grateful when Casey handed off the water to him, urging him to take a drink by simply nodding.

“Thanks,” Chuck said. His hands shook a little as he sipped, but if Casey noticed, he kept it to himself. After a few swigs, he wiped his mouth and passed the canteen back to Casey. With his brain still in a fog, it was then when he finally realized they had been on the trail for hours, and that the sky to the east was just beginning to show strands of color against the low clouds.

At another time, anywhere else, the kid would’ve paused to admire the view, particularly the silhouette of his rugged lover standing on the edge of the rocky crag overlooking the gorge. The profile of Casey’s body, black against the faint crimson and violet hue of the sky behind him, suggested a shadowy image of a dream.

Nothing about this was his dream, at least not yet.

“I have a question for you,” Chuck said, leaning against a tree rather than get closer to the bluff’s edge. “And I need you to promise you’ll tell me the truth.”

Casey turned away from the darkened chasm beneath them and sent the kid a narrow glance. “As long as you know that the truth might be that I won’t answer it.”

Chuck frowned. It rankled him that he couldn’t technically call that a lie. “Fine.” He pushed a hand through his hair and sighed, forcing his mouth to form the words. “Did you ... really kill those two men?”

Casey slipped his hat off to pound the dust out of it, giving it a few good whacks against his thigh. When he turned at last, he looked at him with eyes that were icier, more serious than Chuck had ever seen them. “Hell, yes, I did. And I’d bring them back to life if I could, just to plug the little bastards again.”

“You ... did what now?”

“Shot them.” Casey’s tone was one he would use to say it rained today. “At the kitchen table, still holding the bent cards in their hands.”

“Dead – as in – oh boy.” Chuck’s head was suddenly floating among the tentacles of branches overhead. “Oooh boy.”

“You need to sit down,” Casey said, nodding at a patch of grass under the tree. “Don’t need one of your Victorian heroine routines tonight.”

“It’s not like that. It’s only the sight of blood, okay? And maybe ....” Chuck let out a slow breath and closed his eyes. “All right. I’m going to sit down now.” The rough tree bark dragged along his back as he slumped to the ground. “Just sitting ... right here ....”

“Ah, hell,” Casey said under his breath. He quickly strode over to Chuck and leaned down to touch his face. “Don’t let a few measly little bullet holes get – holy hell.” He got down on his haunches to the kid’s eye level, his expression troubled. “Were you going to tell me you’re a fucking Chuck-icicle, or were you going to keep it a secret until you froze to death? Jesus, kid.”

Cold? Oh, yeah. Casey had a point. He should be chilled to the bone, and maybe he was after they left Black Rock, but a different kind of numbness had taken over his body miles back. Chuck rubbed a hand over his arm. “I’m fine.”

“Hold out your arm.” Casey had his coat off before Chuck could put his hands to stop him. Gripping his arm, he tugged his wrist through the sleeve. “Sit up so I can get it around you.”

“What about you?” Chuck asked, automatically doing what he was told because Casey was going to just do it anyway. “Now you don’t have a coat.”

“I’m not a block of ice, either.”

Swathed in the coat before he could blink, Chuck was not about to admit it, but the body-heated coat was immediately like stepping outside in the summer sun. “You didn’t have to give it up. We can share it. How about this? I’ll give it back when we stop again.

“Sure, princess.” Casey grunted and increased the pressure on his arm. “Up. We’ve got to put more miles behind us than this before we find a place to stop.”

“Slow down, cowboy.” Chuck sat back against the tree trunk, staring up at him. “Before we go ... I have one more question.”

“Chuck, this is not the time.” Casey glanced off to the north - the direction of Black Rock - before he tipped his head towards a fork to the west. “See that trail? The one that crosses towards Carlton, then on to the Elk Mountains?”

“Yes, but what I -”

“Good, because that’s where we’re going. Now get on the horse before I help you get on the horse.”

“No.”

Casey just gave him a look. “Is this crazy talk from the Cipher?”

“I told you. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Yeah? Here’s how my throwing arm works.” Casey made a move for him.

“Whoa.” Chuck scooted out of his reach. “Just one question, John. Please.”

Casey stopped in his tracks, growling. “What?”

Chuck studied him, but it was obvious Casey didn’t understand where he was going with this. “Why did you kill them?”

“You know why,” he answered.

“Yes, I know what they said and what they’ve done already. Trust me that I have firsthand experience there.” Chuck let out a breath, hardly able to believe he was even having this conversation. “But I have to know. Why ... kill them?”

There was a second, after he spoke, where Chuck thought he could almost hear Casey’s heartbeat through the thin shirt he now wore. Steady, thudding through his body. Hearing the question, Casey tilted the kid’s head up, his thumb on his jugular so that now Chuck could feel both of their pulses. “Do you remember the oath I made?”

“Oath?”

“Back at the mine, I promised that I would take care of you. No more pain from those men. So when those two ... told me their intentions ....” Casey’s voice trailed.

“No, there’s more.” Chuck laid a hand on his thigh. “Say what you’re not saying.”

His lover shrugged, trying to hide his discomfort with sharing his thoughts. “A few months ago, when I left your farm ... I knew I was never going to break an oath to you.”

Chuck could only give him a startled look. Somewhere behind the impossible hue of his eyes, the truth lay. It was closer to the surface in this minute than it had been during their time together. The closest Casey had ever come to telling him what it would be like to lose him.

I love you.

He did, didn’t he? Was that what it felt like, when the burning ache of his soul was being scalded every time he thought of being without him? Was that worse than the dread that Casey killed for him?

“I’m ... sorry, okay?”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

“It’s my fault. I’m the reason you had to ... deal with those men.”

“Jesus Christ ....” Casey slid an arm around Chuck’s shoulders to pull him to his feet. The kid discovered it was also to give him a good shake. “None of this is your fault. Being kidnapped, ending up with that thing in your head ... or me doing what had to be done.” His hand moved lower, and he hooked it in the back of Chuck’s jeans, tugging him up against a pair of tight thighs. “Tell me that you understand what I just said.”

Casey’s eyes were near enough to make him dizzy. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he waited, but there was no other answer than the one he needed to hear. “Yes, I ... get it. You’re saying it wasn’t me. It was them.”

Casey bent his head, leaned in, and pressed his lips to Chuck’s throat. “I hear what you did there. And if it’s the last thing I do, I will get you to understand that you don’t have to live with other men’s sins.”

Even mine, Chuck heard clear as day. Casey’s lips stayed pressed to his skin, warm, and the kid couldn’t help but close his eyes and sink into the touch.

“Now ... we should go,” Casey said after dropping another kiss there. “We’ve wasted enough time.” Letting go of him, he took Vic’s reins and led her to one track of the grassy path, trampled by the travelers who came before them. “The trail divides here. We’re going west, staying away from the train routes ... cities ... at least until we get to Utah. After that -”

“Whoa.” Chuck’s eyes widened. “Maybe it’s the whole ‘fleeing for our freedom’ thing that has my ears plugged up at the moment, but I swore I just heard you say west.”

Casey turned, as calm and composed as Chuck was disturbed. “That’s right. I think your hearing is just fine, sweet cheeks. I did say west. You don’t ... have a problem with that?”

Meaning you sure as hell better not have a problem with that.

“Um, I do,” Chuck responded, taking the Spawn’s reins. Then he cleared his throat and dug deep for courage, since the hard look on Casey’s face said he was going to need it. “I’m not going west. I’m going ... south.”

“South,” Casey repeated through clenched teeth.

“Yep. That way.” Chuck lifted his head and waved the end of the reins towards the southerly fork.

Casey was too busy glaring at him to look in that direction. “I know which way south is, city boy.” Whether it was reflexes or impatience, Casey’s hands balled into tight fists, and Chuck considered the odds of getting tossed on a horse in about ten seconds from now. “I’m just wondering why you’re standing there yapping about south when I distinctly said west.”

“Because that’s the way I’m going,” Chuck said without hesitation, and he crossed his arms over the coat. “I’ll go on my own if I have to ... even though I was hoping ... from now on, I wouldn’t be on the trail by myself anymore.”

“Where exactly do you think you’re headed?”

“Home.”

“Home?” Casey gave him a blank look. “Last time I checked, you didn’t have one of those.”

Chuck backed up a step, swallowed the hurtful insult. “I do. It’s the only home I have now. It’s the place where I met the man I’m going to be with.” Looking away sheepishly because of what he had admitted, Chuck ran a hand through his hair and added softly, “For as long as he’ll have me, anyway.”

“Are you talking about ... the damn farm? That godforsaken -”

“I’m going back there, John. And I’m ... kind of hoping you’ll come with me.”

“Nuh-uh. Not happening, kid. We’re headed west, and that’s the end of it.” As soon as he had dictated their future, Casey’s eyes shuttered. End of story.

It was a look Chuck knew. In the past it had frustrated him, scared him, or annoyed him.

But now it made his resolve thicken.

“Okay, I get it,” the kid said, knowing his face had to be turning red with emotion. “Time to order me around again, is that it? It’s okay when I go along with your grand plans, but when it comes to me making a decision that upsets my life, you expect me to jump without any thought about what I have to do.” Chuck tightened his hand on the reins and he looked steadily at him. “Maybe hurting me only means that there’s an exclusive club now – you’re the only one that gets to, is that it?”

Oh, he would go to hell for that last little bit.

Casey seemed unfazed, but the little jaw-tremble gave away everything. “I don’t know where this horseshit is coming from, kid, but -”

“I’ll tell you where,” Chuck broke in, holding up a hand. “Let’s see. In the past week, I’ve been beaten, starved, locked up, hoisted around, and manipulated like a puppet.” Okay, the last accusation might’ve crossed the line, but he was on a roll. “I fixed a freaking steam engine for a man who wants to trade me for property rights! My father knows where I am! I haven’t controlled a single thing in my life for days!” His chin firmed. “Well, until now.”

Casey stared at him without blinking or giving in. “You had to pick this minute, huh. Couldn’t wait until later to put on this little act.”

“It’s not an act. It’s my life.” Chuck drew in a breath and turned his head to the south. “And right now, I’m going home.”

“You do know that is the singularly most stupid thing you can do, right?”

Chuck moved around the horse, positioning himself with the big beast between them. “If you’re not coming with me, I’ll ... be fine. You might’ve noticed, Casey, but I can take care of myself.”

“Really.” It was a variety of grunt Chuck was starting to recognize. Disbelief mingled with ‘you are an idiot’. “Tell me, muffin. When men with guns show up in your barn again? Will you be fine then?”

“Guns?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Casey said. He rolled his eyes and came around the horse, his proximity making the kid tense. “When Liam and dear old dad find out you’re missing, where do you think they’re going to look first?”

“It’s still not stopping me.” Chuck fiddled with the strap of the reins in his hand, until he realized it may give Casey ideas of hog-tying him for this stunt. “Are you going to want your coat back? Though to be honest, I was hoping when I got to the farm ... I would have more than just an empty coat.” His dark eyes searched over him, and the kid was immediately nervous. “Maybe the man it belongs to?”

Oh, that was scary. Casey had missed the ‘I want to be with you’ part of that plea and seemed to be fixated on the ‘I’m willfully disobeying you and going headlong into danger with or without you’ part.

“Nice speech, kid,” Casey said. The pale blue shirt he wore was untucked, fluttering as he strode closer, but at the moment, Chuck could only focus on the holster slung low on his hips. Just another reason he needed Casey. “Now why don’t you tell me why you’re hell bent on going back there?”

“It’s my home.” Chuck averted his eyes, but not before glancing over at him, stupidly noticing a pair of thighs that looked so damn good in jeans, a chest where he could lay his head at night. “And I want you to be there with me. Isn’t that enough?”

Casey considered him. “Except there’s something else you’re not telling me,” he said at last.

The devil-horse chose that moment to stomp awfully close to one of Chuck’s boots. Truthfully, the kid was thankful for the diversion and the excuse to avoid Casey’s eyes right then. Why did he have to be too damn perceptive at the one time the kid wished he could show just a touch of obliviousness?

“I’ve told you what I’m doing, John.” Not a lie. He had, right? “I’m going back home and if I have to handle Liam ... and my father on my own? Well, I guess I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“Yeah, that’ll work.” Casey stepped closer than the kid could back up, captured his fingers and pulled him in. “Gonna talk them to death? Is that your plan?”

The kid shot him a hurt look. “You don’t want to come with me.”

“Didn’t say that, did I? But you’re making a mistake.” Casey didn’t hesitate to run an arm around Chuck’s waist, keeping him there. They were pressed together, his lips so close, Casey’s eyes almost overwhelming him. “And I thought I made it clear that you’re going to be with me.”

Chuck braced himself against his chest and blinked at him. He’d never been told anything with that kind of intensity. Hell, up until that second, the kid nearly held his breath, half expecting that he’d need to pull away in order to escape.

Moving his touch from his waist, upward to cup the back of his head, Casey caught his lips before he could draw back or think, sealing the pact with a hard kiss. The body pressed to his rippled with power beneath the kid’s grip, pronouncing his promise with a hold on the back of his neck so that Chuck couldn’t move. It surrounded him; the smell of his hair, his skin, his neck. All his.

When Casey pulled back, he stroked the kid’s arms, all the way down, and circled his wrists. “Get on the damn horse, kid,” he said. “Against my better judgment, we’re going back to Kiowa.

A deep breath left the kid. His partner was impossible to read, but he knew from the way he looked at him, the fundamental elements between them had shifted to a place Chuck had never been. No matter what, he’d have someone to block him from the wind and whatever the world out there threw at them. Devotion. Utter permanence. Constancy.

Chuck smiled and took the reins. How long could he love this man?

Forever came to mind.

-x-

“Hey ... Casey. Everything okay back there?”

Chuck listened. He may have heard an impatient grunt, but then again, it could’ve been the clop of the hooves only giving him the aural illusion of a response.

Okay. Great. He’s rethinking his agreement to this.

Chuck thought that by now he was more than accustomed to Casey’s ways. All of the kid’s prior inferences, however, had gone up in smoke about the time they came within spitting distance of the farm.

He was only surprised it had taken until noon on the third day to register what he should’ve picked up on a long time ago. In all fairness, though, this streak never came to light until they had taken the south leg of that trail. South, as in score one for Chuck.

What the kid learned quite abruptly was this: when Casey was not in control – or heaven forbid, have his logic second guessed - he morphed into a surly distant version of Casey.

Sort of like the real Casey without the warm, buttery edges Chuck had come to love.

But hey, he did agree at the time, didn’t he? And Chuck had half a mind to turn around in the saddle and tell him that ... except Casey didn’t seem to be in the mood to hear the facts.

Oddly – okay, it was insane – but it seemed that sex had been taken off the table, too. Chuck had come close to pointing out that technically he was free now, and therefore they were both permitted to do more than touch. The kid had to wonder what space time continuum they had crossed into for Casey not to realize that.

No sex. Three days. Hell, barely a kiss.

In fact, there had been very little talking since Casey had volunteered to take up the rear and let Chuck lead.

And no sex.

Wow.

The kid was brought to the present by a reminder on the trail. Two trees fallen over the path, taken down in a storm during the winter. The landscape was all at once familiar, a signal that he was so close to home.

Down the trail there was an opening between the branches, and the small house would come into view. Now he just had to build Casey’s faith to stay here.

“Come on, Spawn.” Chuck made a low whistle between his teeth and lightly nudged her in the ribs. “This is it.”

Beyond this place were miles of open gorge, imperfection but serene. It occurred to him that the terrain would be viewed a bit differently by his lover. Not a sanctuary. He’d never see it that way. He’d see the canyon as a giant trap.

The kid pushed it to the back of his mind and relaxed his shoulders, the large shirt of Casey’s he wore gaping and hanging loose. He didn’t care. He had a home there, and he had a man who would never understand the reason he had to go back.

-x-

As they entered the barn, Chuck tied the reins to a post and broke into a sprint towards the flight of steps. “Be right back.”

“Hey,” he heard Casey say behind him. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I’ll help with the horses in a minute,” Chuck answered hastily, loping up the narrow stairs to his loft. If the treads weren’t as steep as a ladder, he would’ve taken them two at a time.

“Get back here, kid.” Casey’s voice reverberated in the expanse of the empty barn. “You don’t know what’s there. Don’t – ah, goddammit.”

“I’ll be fine,” Chuck called down.

He heard some grousing, something about not getting too comfortable here.

When he poked his head above the floorboards and climbed onto the landing, the first thing his eyes landed on was the flying machine. Wings, still suspended by the straps and anchors, outstretched like a mechanical bird. Later, he’d have to recall where he had left off, and why the few pieces of lumber were on his table, wood shavings lying in curls on the floor.

He barely gave the machine another passing glance. “Please be there. Please be there,” he hissed, scrambling ahead to his workbench. As he reached the end of it, Chuck fell to his knees and desperately pushed loose piles of straw to the side, revealing a small trap door. “Okay, okay ... don’t panic. They would never know ... never ....”

The kid pulled the door open, stared down at the compartment, and let out breath. “Wow. It’s here,” he said, lowering his hand to touch the worn cover. “I can’t believe it. The one thing he does want is still here.”

Casey would be interested in this. In fact, a few nights ago when Chuck had spilled his guts about the Cipher and his father, Bryce ... he probably should’ve mentioned this teensy-weensy detail. Miniscule, really.

Or maybe he was right to save that for another time.

Chuck cocked his head to listen for footsteps. He could hear Casey’s low voice rumbling below him in the barn as he tried to settle down the Spawn. He had no idea what was up here.

His secret was safe.

Chuck shoved the panel shut and spread the layer of straw over the trap door. There. Everything was back to normal. As if nothing had happened.

Nothing at all.

Except that he had almost died three times, came close to getting raped by two of the most repulsive people who had walked the earth, and now he and his partner were on the run from two men who scared the shit out of him.

He felt vaguely like a wrung-out dishrag.

The kid scooted over and sat on the floor, his back slumped against the wall and his knees hugged up to his chest.

It was over. And looking out across the floor, the memories of Black Rock chose that exact moment to sucker punch him in the gut. All he could see was black-eyed Liam, the two hoots, what they did ... what they had threatened to do .... His father, still searching for him....

Okay, this was a really bad time to have one of those attacks.

God, no.

The woefully familiar tightening in his chest told him he was too far to fight his way out of it. Chuck dropped his forehead on his knee and squeezed his eyes shut. “Dammit. Stop ....”

Apparently, his brain or his chest or whatever controlled this spasm wasn’t ready to listen. Holding onto his knees, he tried to suck in air that wasn’t there. Perspiration sprung up everywhere, rolling down his face, under his shirt, cold along his skin.

Don’t do this now. Not here.

Can’t breathe, too much ....

I hate this.

Hot tears, unwanted betrayal, leaked out of the corner of his eyes. The kid wanted to throw up, but there was nothing there. The labored wheezing was the only thing leaving him, mixed with an odd sobbing noise that didn’t belong in his body.

Can’t do this now .... breathe ....

“Kid?” he thought he heard. “What the fu -? Hey. Hey!” A rough voice. It made him aware that Casey had climbed the stairs and was there, kneeling next to him. A warm hand soothed the back of his neck before moving to the side of his jaw, dragging his attention up to meet his unyielding blue eyes. “Jesus .... Look at me. Chuck. Slow down. Take a breath. It’s all right. You’re home ....” I’m here.

A strong hand slid around his shoulders, down to his heart, steadying him, giving him back the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Shh, kid. Shhh. Nobody here but me.”

Time was blurry, wet.

After long minutes, the kid closed his eyes and finally found his voice. “I’m ... s-sorry. Just go, okay? I’ll be d-down ... soon.”

“Not leaving you like this, city boy.” To prove his point, Casey increased the pressure of his hold on the kid’s chest. “Stop thinking about all of it. It’s done ....”

Over he went, his shoulders hauled across a pair of firm muscular thighs; Casey held him, legs stretched out while he stroked his big hand over the kid’s dark curls. Then he rocked him, just a bare movement back and forth, murmured to his ear, his voice breaking the vice. “Everything will be all right, brown eyes ....”

Chuck gripped Casey’s calf under one hand, holding his human anchor and wondering what he had done right to find a man who would put up with this.

“Don’t r-regret coming here, okay?” Chuck was unsure of Casey knew he meant both times.

When he didn’t get an answer, Chuck forced his eyes open, his cheek still resting on Casey’s thigh. Mortification hit him as reason returned. He should sit up, but he wasn’t sure the room had stopped spinning yet. And the hand playing with his hair felt so good.

“That’s better, boyo .... buachaill cróga ... céard a dhéanfas mé leat....” All of that was lost on Chuck until Casey muttered, “Christ you pick the damndest times to do this.”

“Next time ... I’ll consult the itinerary.” Chuck coughed. Breathed in and let it out slow. He listened to Casey’s inhalations and tried to match them. It took a while, longer than before, to get it right.

“You okay, kid?”

“M’ fine,” he said, and certain he could lift his head without further embarrassment, Chuck shifted his gaze up to him. “Lucky you. You got to see that pathetic show twice, huh? I said I’m sorry, right?”

“Did you get some snot on my pants, kid?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good. Then you have nothing to be sorry about.” Despite the smartass comment, Casey didn’t look remotely amused. “Come here. Sit up.”

“Maybe for the next show, you can pop some popcorn,” Chuck said, trying to maintain a light air. He managed to sit up, wiping the sweat and snot from his face with the sleeve of the rumpled top. Casey didn’t say a word, though the kid knew it had to bug him. Maybe being in love meant putting up with some other people’s shit. Even when it leaves stains on your shirt.

“Next time, warn me,” Casey muttered, smoothing the kid’s hair.

“The attacks don’t come with alarm bells, so sorry.” Chuck rested his head on the sturdiest thing he could find, hoping Casey didn’t need that shoulder for a while. “I could burn something in the stove to send up a signal?”

Casey gave a resigned sigh and slipped his hand to Chuck’s jaw, cradled his head against his chest. “Listen to me,” he said, and the other hand pressed his body gently into him, fingers stroking bare skin where the shirt had rucked up. “There’s going to be a time, brown eyes, when you have no reason to do that anymore. I promise.”

Chuck swallowed. If there was an instance to tell him that his father and his men would tear the farm apart looking for what he had stashed under the floorboards, well, now would be that time.

Really, he should just say it.

“Think you can get up now?” Casey asked, twiddling with a few curls between his fingers.

Chuck let go of his hand. “Yes ... and thank you for not humiliating me.”

“We still have all night,” Casey replied, giving his hair a little tug before letting go. “Let’s see if we can round up a few vittles, eh?”

Chuck nodded feebly and let Casey lug him to his feet. As they reached the top of the stairs, however, Casey turned to study the kid’s face. “You still look fidgety. More than normal. Why’d you race up here, anyway?”

“I ... had to make sure it was still in one piece,” Chuck offered weakly, motioning towards the flying machine. “That’s all.”

Casey eyed him a bit longer before he shrugged, the suspicion leaving his expression. Now that he had Chuck eye to eye, he bent forward and kissed him, tenderly, and kept kissing him as the hands caressing Chuck’s middle slid lower, giving the slender curve of one buttock a squeeze. Why Casey chose this moment to press his lips to his, Chuck had no clue. He only knew it put a delicious shiver running through him, suddenly drawing something tight and low in his belly.

Then Casey leaned back and smiled, making the kid’s guilt well up.

He would tell him. Just not now. This was too perfect.

“Yep. Still ... still in one piece,” Chuck said, evading his boyfriend’s gaze.

“Still think you’re crazy, pancake.” Casey glanced around the loft and shook his head. “Now get down those stairs before I remind you what we did the first time you brought me here.”

“Promises, promises,” Chuck mumbled, not sure if he wanted Casey to hear that.

Casey turned around and chuckled. Okay, yes. He had figured it out. Any of those rules they had talked about at the lodge were out the window now.

-x- End Chapter Fourteen Sins Fell Angels-x-


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Fifteen

-x-

As Casey listened to the footsteps behind him, he was silently thankful that the kid managed to follow him down the staircase without tumbling over and breaking his fool neck. Embarrassed by the attack, Chuck had refused the hand Casey offered, but he appeared steady enough, and the larger man didn’t bother looking back until they reached the stalls.

“There’s a pail of water for the appaloosa,” Casey said, resuming the chore of wiping down Vic. “Why don’t you give it to her and sit down?”

“Yes, sir,” the kid said sarcastically, proving he still felt like shit.

Casey tossed the saddle blanket on the top rail and put a hand on the curve of the horse’s neck, clicking his tongue out of habit to soothe her. “The animals,” he said after a minute. “Is that part of the reason for the little show upstairs?”

“Little show. Hm. That has pizzazz.” Chuck dropped on a short stool outside of the appaloosa’s stall, looking ridiculous with his knees bent up to his chest. He also looked dead-pale. “Interesting name for it. Maybe I should charge a nickel at the matinee?”

Okay. Panic attacks lead to cynicism. Good to know, cupcake.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Casey replied, choosing to ignore the surliness. Usually, getting information out of the kid didn’t take two pokes of a stick, but he had been quiet since the spell hit him. “Hate to break the news to you, but they’re missing. Even that worthless horse and passel of chickens you keep have managed to make a break for freedom.”

It was encouraging that there was no sign of carcasses, but Casey didn’t point that out. Still, nine days had passed and he was sure the farm animals were dead.

“Oh, Jackson?” The kid glanced over at the empty stall. “He’s fine. So are the cows and chickens, I suppose.”

“They just all skedaddled out of here, eh?” Casey rested his elbows on the top rail, studying the kid. If he was still suffering from God-knows-what in that head of his, he was able to cover it up. “What makes you think so?”

“Well, that’s easy.” Chuck didn’t look up, but Casey was surprised to see a small smile lurking on the corner of his lips. “Because it was a Sunday when Liam ... took me.”

“Sunday,” Casey echoed as he considered the lack of logic. “That’s the day they grow angel’s wings, I suppose, and flap their asses out of here.”

“Out of the box thinking, but no.” The kid stretched his long legs out in front of him and shifted his eyes to meet a questioning blue gaze. “But Monday is the day I go to town and visit Morgan. Get my new jobs for the week. You do remember that? Every Monday, without fail.”

“Yeah, I remember. You and the little twit, gabbing like two little girls over your latest conquest. By that, I mean keeping score of how many coffee cans each of you have shot off a stump with that pea shooter of yours.”

“Hey, a guy’s got to have some fun out here.”

“Oh, you can have fun, kid.” Wanting to emphasize the kind he meant, Casey let his eyes travel over those long legs. “Without using firearms.”

“The firearms part is questionable,” the kid muttered. “Are you done ridiculing my past time?”

Casey stared at him for a moment and began to shake his head. “All right. Morgan. Your friend who owns the mercantile. You think he had something to do with this?”

“There’s no question about it,” Chuck said. “I’m certain he did.”

“What exactly did the little moron do, anyway?”

Rather than protest the title, the kid just shrugged again. “Well, my guess is that by the time his mid-afternoon ... well, siesta was over.”

“He sleeps in the day? At the store?”

“Uh, well it’s like this. There’s a place in the back of the store where Morgan sells ... bedrolls. And ... he hides there in the afternoon for a little while. Just a nap, okay? It’s quite cozy, actually.”

“You would know?”

“He showed it to me, of course.”

Casey drew back to look over him judiciously. “Really.”

“Hmm?” Chuck gave him a confused look before his jaw dropped. “Oh. Morgan likes women. And for the record, he’s not my type.”

“Yeah?” Eyeing him, Casey ambled over to the gate, resting a shoulder on a post. “What exactly is your type, kid?”

Chuck reddened up nicely. “Weren’t you just asking me about the animals?”

Casey wanted to point out that they could go up to the loft and wind-up this conversation later, but now that the kid was talking, he knew Chuck was like a puppy with a bone. He wouldn’t stop until the words were chewed up and spit out. “Yeah, okay. I know I’m going to regret asking, but who is he hiding from?”

“Well ... from the customers, of course.”

“I thought you told me this was his store.”

“Well, sure. His name is on the sign.”

“And this guy doesn’t sound like a doofus to you?”

“He is my friend, you know,” Chuck said. His chin came up, the defiant little move Casey recognized when he had a point to make. “Which means there is a good chance you’re going to meet him someday, so could you try to be nice?”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened after the siesta, or are we done here?” Because the image of those long legs stretched out ... wrapped around his hips was making him firm up a little.

The kid rose to his feet, killing a dreamily good fantasy. “Morgan would’ve thought the worst, closed up shop, and rode out here to find me.” He waved a hand towards Jackson’s vacant stall. “And this is what he would’ve found. An empty house. Animals that needed food and water. He would’ve taken care of that.”

“So he has the animals?”

“No, not quite,” Chuck said. “He doesn’t have a barn in town.”

“Can you get to the part where any of this makes sense?”

“Do you remember Sarah? The woman who rode into the farm ...?” The kid paused to clear his throat. “We were by the creek, and you held me down so that I couldn’t call out to her?”

Casey smiled, enjoying the view of his young lover getting a little squirmy. They both remembered that day quite well. It had led to the night in the loft. “I might recall getting disrupted,” he said, giving him a cursory inspection. “Too bad. You were showing some promise on learning how to use a bar of soap.”

“Wow. I remember it a bit differently. As I recall it, you stripped me down -”

“You stunk, kid. After your little attempt to flee? Before you got your head on straight? You can’t argue that.”

“- And you tossed me in the water with you!”

“What are you bitching about?” Casey sauntered over to him and folded his arms over his chest. “I let you keep your undershorts, didn’t I?”

Chuck started to open his mouth to argue, but must’ve considered that Casey had a fair point. “Okay, I thought you wanted to hear this?”

“Fine. How does the blonde hussy who’s after your skinny ass fit into the mix?”

“What?”

Why Chuck would look surprised by that, Casey had no earthly idea. “Come on, kid. You had to see it.”

“See what now?”

“Let me put it this way. That strumpet wants to rope you, wrangle you down to the ground, and get her brand on you.”

Chuck gaped at him. “I told you. We’re friends. She’s knows that.”

“Yeah, friends.” Casey made a disbelieving noise in his throat. “I’ve got to respect a woman who wear pants and carries a Winchester, but that that little piece of calico doesn’t come by here to be friends. That girl wants to climb your pecker pole, kid.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Chuck said wryly, cocking his head at him. “Can we stay focused for just a moment, please? I thought you wanted to her what happened.”

“Let me guess. You said the girl lived on a farm a few miles from here, so I’m going to assume that idiot friend of yours alerted the countryside.”

“Wouldn’t you? If I was gone?”

At the mention of losing him, Casey gave in to the urge to slide an arm around Chuck’s waist. He held him, hearing a little intake of breath. “When he found his best friend missing,” he went on in a low voice, “Morgan brought the blonde into the fracas.”

“You used his real name.” Chuck smiled, and not pulling away, he dropped a hand on Casey’s chest. “You get points for that.”

“And after they searched for you,” Casey went on, “Blondie offered to take the animals back to the family farm until you showed up again.”

“Not too bad.” There it was, Casey thought. He’s leaning in, wants to share a little warmth.

“What did I miss, hot shot?”

“Well.” Chuck’s attention lingered somewhere in the vicinity of the V of his shirt before drifting up to his eyes. God, the kid had a smile that made him want to keep holding onto him. “You only forgot the part about Morgan returning to town to tell the sheriff and organize the search party – but you did all right for a tenderfoot.” Casey saw that under his smile and soft eyes, the kid was weighing a decision. “I bet he’s worried sick ....”

“Ah, fuck. Let me guess. You want to ride into town and let them know we’re here. That you’re okay.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Chuck gave him an insolent look as he scratched a hand through his stubble. “But not today.”

“No? Now that’s a surprise. Thought you’d want to give up our hiding place as fast as you could.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, but no. It’s almost supper time ... we’ve been on the trail for three days. I hate to be selfish, but one more day won’t matter ... and they’re other things we should do first.”

Even when Casey smiled, there was no doubt in his mind that the kid wasn’t thinking along the same lines as he was. “Not the crazy flying machine, I hope.”

“No, I meant sustenance.” Chuck nudged him in the stomach. “You have to be starving, and I know I am.”

Casey watched him look around the empty barn, wondering when he should tell Chuck the truth. He needed to start planning, preparing the kid to say goodbye to this place. The animals couldn’t be returned, simply because Casey knew they would only be here two days, tops. Long enough to collect any belongings the kid had to have. Just grab the basics of what they would need, nothing else.

“You can tell them soon enough that you’re safe,” he lied. “We’ll stay here tonight.”

Casey reached down and gripped his hand, curled his fingers around the kid’s. Chuck was right about one thing. Maybe it was a different kind of hunger putting heat in his lower belly, but he’d only feel guilt if he didn’t find something closely resembling food soon for his young lover.

“Besides,” Chuck said, shooting a glimpse at the barn’s doorway, over to the grassy path to the cabin. “I want to see what they did to my home.”

-x-

“Man, I don’t believe it!” Walking a few steps behind him, Chuck came to stop. “This is so great. It survived!”

“Well, the bastards didn’t burn it down.” Pitiful that that was the bright side.

“No. I don’t mean the house. Come here.” When Casey turned around, he saw Chuck drop to his knees, motioning to him. “Look.”

Next to the path was Chuck’s garden, or what was left of it, Casey supposed. The bushy weeds had taken over, enough to make Casey walk past the once-neat rows without noticing. “Vegetables?”

“Nice, huh? It looks like the rabbits left some for us.”

“I offered to shoot them for you.”

“No thanks.” Chuck flashed a grin. “They’re kind of cute. How could you even think of shooting one?”

“Heh. They look cute surrounded by potatoes and gravy, too.” Casey strolled over to stand behind him, looking down to see Chuck acting like a big kid on Christmas morning. “Unless you’re growing a roasted turkey leg in there,” Casey said, “we may just waste away to nothing.”

“Don’t be a big grump. It’s food. Get down here.” Chuck pulled on his pant leg until Casey got down on his haunches next to him. One hand came up to Casey’s mouth, holding something suspiciously green. “Here. Open your mouth.”

“I’m not going to – ah, shit.” Since Chuck had shoved it in his mouth, Casey chewed. “What the hell is that?”

“Sugar snap peas. What does that look mean? Didn’t you like it?”

“Your turn. Open your mouth, princess. I’ll let you try one.”

Chuck frowned. “Do you really want to pick something, or were you being an asshole right then?”

Casey grunted and gestured towards the cabin. “Let’s go. Bring anything else you can find.”

“Hey, the beets survived, too. The spring onions ... oh, heck. The carrots are gone.” Chuck untucked his shirt to make a sling and began filling it with anything he could scrounge up. “Hey. New potatoes. Great.”

Casey brushed a hand over the back of Chuck’s neck and rose to his feet. A few minutes later, the kid had collected red potatoes with paper-thin skins, deep purple beets, and pink stalks of rhubarb.

“Ta da. My contribution,” he said, rising to stand next to him. “Now you just have to contribute the meat.”

Casey stared at him, keeping his face perfectly serene.

It took only a few seconds for the kid to blush as deep as his beets. “Wow, I said that, didn’t I?”

“Yep,” Casey answered, and despite their circumstances, he felt a gut loosening-grin cross his face. Who knew the kid could blush even deeper?

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?” Suddenly, he was just pleased to see Chuck barely stifle a smile of his own, rocking back on his heels and shoving Casey in the waist, roughhousing as if they were teenagers.

“Come on, brown eyes,” Casey said, pushing his hat back on his head. “Food is sounding better by the minute.”

Somewhere along the way, he’d need to push Chuck back into reality, but for now he didn’t need the kid thinking about tomorrow or the day after. There was too much he wanted to do to his boyfriend. Needed to do for him.

-x-

When Casey reached for the knob and swung the door open, he wasn’t surprised that the kid didn’t move at first, hardly breathing. Instead, Chuck stood at the threshold, his eyes surveying his living quarters, and he almost dropped the sling of vegetables he had gathered in his shirt.

“Wow ....” Chuck managed after a minute, and Casey heard a note of bitterness in his voice. “Look at that.”

Casey walked in ahead of him, perusing the room before he slung his pack to the floor. It pissed him off that the men had been so thorough in their search, or perhaps had made a mess for the fun of it after they had what they wanted. Most of the kid’s belongings, including his books and odd tools, were strewn on the floor, furniture tipped over or broken.

Interestingly, the little bastards had left Chuck’s buckshot rifle hanging over the door. The must’ve figured it wasn’t even worth hauling away.

Seeing that his boyfriend seemed to be stuck in the doorway, Casey put a hand on the small of his back and gave him a gentle push across the threshold. “It’s not so bad, kid,” he told him, righting one of the kitchen chairs. “A few hours and some elbow grease and this place will be back the way it was.”

Hell, it wouldn’t. It would always be the home that had been violated, and Casey could use that as a justification later to get him out.

“Sure ... exactly the way it was,” Chuck repeated. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back so that it rested against the door. “I’m really tired of people screwing with me.”

A tiny voice in Casey’s head told him a real partner would be a consoler. A role Casey could say he was never good at, so he told it to shut the fuck up. “Grab the other end of the table, kid. This isn’t going to get better by looking at it.”

Chuck slanted his head to look at him, but the no-nonsense approach seemed to get him moving. “I love what they did to the place,” he deadpanned, dumping the vegetables on the counter. “Gives it that cozy ambiance, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, all of the comforts of home,” Casey said, bending down to grab the table. “I’ll see if any of those jars of preserves aren’t broken.” Finding the stash of booze he knew the kid kept for medicinal purposes would also be a boon.

“Ah, there it is. I knew it.” As Chuck cautiously approached the fireplace, he picked up a piece of paper set against the ornate mantle clock. He scanned it for a few seconds before he gave a small smile. “Morgan. He said the sheriff gave up after a few days. Comforting, huh? But he said he would keep looking.”

“Read it out lout, boyo. I want to know who they thought did this.”

Chuck grimaced. “Well, if you insist, but remember, he can get dramatic, and I know you’re not much for theatrics.”

“Here’s the rule, then. If I grab the letter from your hand and crinkle it up in my fist, that will be your signal to stop.”

“Good to know,” Chuck said, peering at him before he turned his attention to the paper. “Dear Chuck,” he read. “Or ‘long lost best buddy of mine who I hope is reading this letter’ because that would mean my life is -”

“Christ. My fingers are getting itchy already.”

“I get the picture.” Chuck nibbled on his bottom lip for a second. “I’ll skip the part about – wow. Huh. A new shoot-the-can record.”

“Does the moron say anything of importance?”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “I guess I’ll jump past the part about roast beef, too.”

“Good choice.”

Chuck didn’t speak for a moment as he walked over to where the larger man was leaning against the table. He settled his wiry body along one side of Casey’s, their hips and upper arms pressed close, and he slid one hand behind him.

“Let me see.” Chuck’s lashes lowered as he began to read again. “Oh, here we go. He says, I don’t know what has been going on in your life, my friend, but I hope you can tell me someday.”

“None of his damn business,” Casey interrupted. “How would he know, anyhow?”

“This is Morgan we’re talking about.” Chuck shook his head as if Casey should know what he meant by that. “Okay, he says ... I can tell there’s something that ... oh.” At that point, the kid’s voice trailed curiously and he stopped to glance over at Casey. “You know what? You don’t want to hear this. It’s just Morgan going on blah, blah, blah, right? Maybe I’ll read this later by myself when -”

“Nuh-uh. Keep reading.” Casey’s senses prickled, and being aligned with the kid’s body, he had felt him tighten. He nudged him and nodded. “I want to hear it.”

Chuck hesitated, his eyes flicking to the side and purposely avoiding him. “It’s a little personal.”

“Kid, here’s a reminder for you. We’ve been about as personal as two people can be, so read.”

With his bluff called, Chuck had no choice but to grouse something about closeness being a pretext for nosiness. “Don’t blame me if it’s embarrassing,” he warned, wetting his lips. “Here goes. ‘This is your buddy. Morgan. And if anyone can tell that you have ... a new lady – or hey, let’s be real here – man friend in your life, you can tell Doctor Morgan about it’.”

Casey snorted. “That idiot is a doctor?”

“Well,” Chuck said sheepishly. “He’s not actually a doctor in the truest sense of the word, but –”

“Shit.” Casey pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please. Stop.”

“Only if you stop doing that thing with your nose. You aren’t really in pain, are you?”

Casey lowered his hand to glare.

“Okay, why don’t we see what else he had to say?” Chuck held up the thin sheet of paper, skimming it over. “Wow, this is ... a tad humiliating.”

“Read it.”

Chuck did, but not before he gave a glare back at him. “He said ... I can see that you haven’t been yourself, moping around like a little – okay, that’s it.” The kid hurriedly folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. “I read ahead. Yes, he took care of the animals. No, the sheriff has no theories. See, mystery solved.”

Once Casey picked up on the word moping and noted the way Chuck’s neck turn red, he slipped a hand around his hip and pressed him close. “So,” he said, unable to suppress a little smirk, “you missed me while I was gone? Maybe didn’t think I’d be back for you, eh?”

“I was not moping,” Chuck said petulantly. “I was busy, that’s all. I had a lot of jobs. A lot ... on my mind.”

“I bet you did, stud.” Casey reached up to ruffle his hair. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“And further degrade myself? No thank you.” He wasn’t mortified enough to slip from Casey’s grasp, however, and it was nothing but relief to feel Chuck stretch against him, inclining against the crook of his shoulder. “I’m going into town tomorrow,” he said softly. “I have to let him know I’m okay.”

“Kind of what I figured.” Casey huffed. It was an interesting lesson in balancing the risk of being found against giving in to his young lover. It all felt goddamn strange, oddly vulnerable, yet Casey knew it was a sacrifice he wanted to make for the kid. “You’re not going alone, though. I’m your new shadow, cupcake, until I’m certain we’re safe.”

“Wow.” Chuck looked down the slope of Casey’s body and had to point a smile at him. “My own grunting, shooting, Herculean shadow. Huh. Scary, yet comforting.” Then rubbing his eyes, the smile faded. “I don’t want you to meet him. Is that okay?”

There was a pause while something like a band of twisted barbed wire tightened around Casey’s chest. He had no choice but to go along with it if the kid didn’t want him there. And apparently, he didn’t want him there.

“Not that I want to meet the little twit, anyway,” Casey said blandly. He shrugged and slipped his hand away from Chuck’s hip. “You meet him alone. I’ll stay out of sight.”

“Hang on.” As Casey started to push off from the table, Chuck caught his arm and moved to stand directly in front of him. A pair of big brown eyes was now level with his, the kid’s long, slender body holding Casey against him. “Oh, my God. You’ll never say it in a million years, but I think I hurt you right then.”

“You didn’t hurt me, princess,” Casey scoffed.

Strong fingers, stronger than he remembered, dug into his biceps. “You think I’m ashamed of you, is that it?”

“Fuck no,” Casey muttered, studied a shadow across the wall. “You’re just trying to save me from having my ear gnawed off by the little porch percher.”

Chuck beamed a smile and put a hand on either side of Casey’s hips, blocking him in at the table. Casey squinted over at the kid, since he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about being pinned back.

“Hey, it’s your turn to listen to me,” Chuck said. Caught in the light of that smile, Casey’s pride was seemingly ready to be put aside just this one time. He let Chuck press in, molding his body fully to his, planting his feet on the outside of Casey’s boots.

Casey narrowed his eyes. “What,” he said.

“Trust me, John, when I’m ready to introduce you, I’m going to flaunt you like the ....” As he stopped to ponder, Chuck’s appreciative gaze dropped over Casey’s torso and back up again. “Well, you know, all of that.” He bent forward, his curls brushing Casey’s temple, and their noses nearly touched. “But I haven’t been completely honest with my friend ... and I think seeing me again tomorrow will be a big enough of a shock, let alone touting my man candy on my – oh crap. You know, I should probably leave it there.”

“Man candy.” Casey teased him with a lazy grin. The barbed wire seemed to untangle, but the kid didn’t need to know that. “If I wasn’t so close to taking you upstairs, I’d be offended by that, button.”

“Wow, next time stop me,” Chuck said, pulling away a bit. “But you do get what I’m saying about Morgan, don’t you? I think I owe him an apology – and you have to admit, you are kind of a big, uh, surprise?”

“Relax, kid.” Casey’s hands smoothed over Chuck’s narrow hips, creating a distraction that allowed him to spin the kid around so that he was now the one trapped against the table. “As far as I’m concerned, if I have to be your secret plaything to get out of meeting the little poke, I’m having a hell of a time thinking what’s wrong with this.”

“And you’re not my secret plaything,” the kid argued lamely.

“Heh.” Casey ran a hand around the Chuck’s backside to cop a squeeze. He was rewarded with the jolt and flushed cheeks he was after. “You okay here for a while?”

“What?” Chuck recovered from the grab and dash by giving him a confused look. “Why ...? Are you going somewhere?”

“I’m going up on the ridge, to the edge of the forest.” Casey lifted a shoulder at the kid’s bewildered look. “I can still keep my eye on the farm from up there.”

“But why are you ...?”

The inquisitive expression made him look kind of cute, but nothing was more appealing than the fact he seemed to want Casey to stick around. “Dinner,” Casey explained. “Time to go hunting. All your vegetables are fine for a bird or as a plate decoration, kid, but this man needs some meat.”

“Oh. Well, go off and ... shoot something, or whatever you kids do for fun.” Chuck swallowed and fiddled with the paper in his pocket. “I won’t stand between you and your quest. On one condition.”

Casey was already occupied by checking his gun. “Yeah? What is it?”

“You have to come back.” Chuck moved closer, his dark eyes getting that intent focus that made Casey want to skip the hunting trip. He then reached out to touch his arm, brushing his hand back and forth, and somehow the kid made his skin tingle under his fingers. “This is home now. With me.”

Casey had the impression that if a man was as smart as Chuck, he’d be smart in everything, every thought. Looking over at him, he still couldn’t quite figure it out. Was Chuck pretending, lost in his dream world, or was he trying not to think of how quickly they’d be gone?

Home never mattered to Casey. It should not matter now. This was just a farm, a place to stop before moving to the next. It was going to be more difficult for the kid to come to that conclusion, yet if there was anyone who would understand, it should be him. Home was not the walls and lumber, pretty knick knacks over the fireplace.

It was being with a man you want to protect and love. For Casey, it was this man standing before him. Unaware of his own appeal, a shy heart that was all his. Forever, if he had a damn thing to say about it.

Casey leaned in to kiss Chuck, his fingers digging into his slim waist. As soon as their lips touched, the kid’s eyes drifted shut, and they were still closed when Casey pulled his head back to end the soft press of lips.

God. Already, with barely anything, he could feel Chuck practically vibrating against his chest, anticipating what will happen tonight.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Casey said, and that, at least, was the truth. “And you had better still be here. Waiting for me.”

-x-

“Henry James. Tolstoy. Needle nose pliers. Dented coffee kettle. Oh, yippee. A broken jar of pickled beets.” Chuck shook his head and flipped the pliers into his wooden toolbox. Habit made him tidy up the place before he dove into anything he’d really like to do. Such as trying to figure out what was wrong with the Singer sewing machine he had been working on for Mrs. Betts.

The mental inventory went on. Nothing else was missing from his home. Except that.

His silver box, etched with a pair wings, was lost. The letters Liam had swiped, notes to Ellie he never sent. That peeved him. More than anyone would know, but there was nothing he could do about that.

“Well, its several notches above pathetic,” he observed, glancing around. Had he really spent a year of his life living in this lonely place, away from the possibility of flashing on symbols?

Chuck let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. “That’s enough for now ... and great, that didn’t take long to start talking to myself again.” He levered himself off of the table and crossed over to the kitchen. “I wonder if Buddy is still around.”

The kid went to the firewood crib out back to call his cat – there was no sign of the surly Maine Coon who had adopted him – and decided that was enough tidying for now. With his newfound freedom, he scrambled around, moving jars and tins until he found coffee. He dumped it in the enamel pot, and though Casey would grumble, he would drink it.

Chuck spent the next half hour tinkering before he heard heavy footsteps on the porch. “Casey...?”

Wow, was he still on edge. Just open the door, dummy.

Chuck went to the door and peered outside. The first thing he saw was his lover, down on his knees. The second thing he noticed was the dead turkey, halfway into the process of having its head hacked off with a Bowie knife.

“Lovely.” Chuck quickly looked away, suddenly interested in the sky to the west. Or anything else for that matter. “So it was your lucky day?”

“Yep. Not for the turkey,” Casey said, starting on the feet next. “Hand me a bucket?”

“Er, sure.” It was almost impossible to hand off a bucket without looking, but the kid succeeded just fine. “Unless you need me, I’m going inside now.”

Casey tossed the feet and head in the bucket and sat up. “Do you know how to skin a rabbit? I have one of those, too.”

“I do,” Chuck said, stepping out the way of the pail. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know. It’s just not my favorite past time.”

Casey looked up at him, eyes full of mischief as he discarded tail feathers.

Chuck’s brow crinkled. “What?”

“Nothing.” Casey rolled his eyes. “Can you get the stove stoked?”

“Already done,” Chuck replied. With his eyes avoiding the aftermath of the hunt – and the dirty smirk - he scurried past Casey and loaded his arms with more firewood. “So in this scenario, my job is to keep the fire going and eat meat? Hey, I think I like this – oh, you big ass, stop looking at me like that.”

His boyfriend rested his elbows on his knees and grinned up at him. “You might want to say it in your head first, princess.”

“Jerk,” Chuck mumbled, dropping one of the logs. At least it didn’t land on his feet. Or anything else he was apparently going to need later.

-x-

Chuck laid his head back on the sofa and watched Casey at the sink. In all fairness, the kid had offered to clean up the dinner dishes, but Casey had all but steered him over to the sofa and ordered him to sit. It was hard to argue when every hollow place in his belly had been filled with roasted turkey legs, boiled new potatoes, and pan sautéed sugar snap peas.

“You know, you’re a handy guy to have around,” Chuck said, absently watching the way Casey’s muscles rolled over his back while he worked the hand pump. “And I think we make a good team. You can handle the hunting part, and I’ll take care of the rest. When you let me.”

“When you’re not trying to hide your aches on your right side, the job is all yours.”

Chuck frowned at Casey’s back. He thought he had been doing a better job at toughing out the last bit of creakiness in his ribs. Perhaps he should point out that he was perfectly capable of washing a few dinner dishes, and he even opened his mouth to say that.

There was another way to look at it. Why ruin a moment to fondly admire the view? Undetected and without the teasing that went with it?

“Oh. Nice,” Chuck whispered, stretching his legs out and getting in a typical sprawl. As the kid enjoyed a perusal of his lover’s broad back, it stirred up a memory resting in his mind of the last time he had done this exact thing. It was Casey’s first, unannounced visit to the farm. Chuck had watched him after dinner in the very same way, sitting on the couch, pretending to be asleep. Through heavy eyelids, he scrutinized every adept, purposeful move.

Undeniably, the temptation and physical attraction were there that time, too. No doubt about that. The only problem was that the first time Casey blew into the farm, a quiet controlled cyclone, the kid pushed his feelings down and didn’t do a darn thing about the attraction. Well, at first.

Truthfully, the absolute fear of him might’ve had a little bit to do with it. Specifically since Casey was completely off limits.

Except off limits ended up being a blurry line, one that he eventually barreled right over. And he shouldn’t feel guilty about that.

What did anyone expect, really? Put that much temptation, wrapped in hard-packed muscle and attitude, in front of a hungry man, and not take a bite?

God.

I’m pretty sure I love you.

Whoa. Did he? Is that what it feels like?

A warm blanket? Ellie’s hot chocolate in the middle of winter’s bitterest grip?

Had Casey ever said the words to him? Chuck felt something from him at times in a quiet moment like this. A persistent need or a sudden powerful ache as if the words were there, just waiting for him to say it.

Chuck tilted his head to the side and let his eyes roam over Casey’s broad back. Hell, look at me, he thought. I’m imperfect – a lot imperfect. It made all the difference in the world when he believed a man loved him enough that he would overlook his messed-up hair or the horrible thing he had stuffed in his head.

The fact that Casey would put aside his flaws added to the things that made Chuck love him all the more.

Chuck sat up a little, watching a man completely in control, body moving with a grace that fairly screamed his capabilities. And here he was, letting Casey do the work while his thoughts became all tangled, not to mention his arousal ratcheting up at the idea of getting him naked.

Ellie would not be proud of this moment.

Or what he planned to do next. The last time he sat here, admiring Casey’s thick arms and the rounded ass clad in denim, he could do nothing about it. Heck, he was petrified.

But this time?

The kid, dithering for a second or two, got up from the sofa and plodded across the floor. It was a happy accident that Chuck had decided to give his weary feet a rest when he had sacked out on the sofa. No boots meant he could sneak up on Casey, even if the man seemed to have eyes on the back of his head.

“Hi there ... sweetie,” Chuck said from behind. In the same breath, he wrapped his arms around Casey’s middle and rested his chin on his right shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

Casey jolted and then half-turned, eyeing him suspiciously. “Did you just grab me?”

“Hey, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I don’t startle, kid,” Casey said, obviously perturbed that Chuck had gotten the drop on him. “Has anyone ever warned you not to sneak up on a man carrying a loaded weapon?”

“Call me crazy, but since we’re the only ones here, I thought you’d be able to narrow down who’s grabbing you from behind ... and maybe like it?”

Casey grunted, the one that said he was ... interested. “Grabbing is okay, but if you call me that again, I may just shoot you.”

“Swee -? Oh. Uh, sorry. I was just testing it out, since you seem to have a liking for – okay, I’ll stop now.” Chuck didn’t move away, however, as he tried to search for the appropriate words to a man who had no use for them. As he considered his options, the kid’s thumb stroked the small spot between Casey’s shoulder blades, then started drawing little circles there.

“I thought you were sleeping,” Casey said, not turning from the basin.

“I only laid down because you made me. I wasn’t tired, you know.” Chuck kept making the circles over his shirt, every round loop getting larger. “God ... I love ....” – oh crap - “uh, your back.”

“My back?” Casey held still while the kid stroked his hair. “Is that why I’m wearing a Chuck-blanket?”

If this was a seduction – and Chuck really wasn’t sure he could call it that – it was officially not going so well.

“Is this ... okay?” Chuck asked, moving his fingers down again, slow and easy over the firm flesh in his lower back.

“Mm.” Casey let out a low groan and tipped his head forward, a move Chuck took as a signal to keep going. “Remind me again why I think you have good hands.”

“Is it because of this?” Chuck dug in a little where he felt a knot of tension.

“Jesus ...”

“Better?”

“Yeah, that was a good Jesus. Not the bad kind.”

“Thanks for the clarification.” Chuck smiled and kissed the warm curve of his neck, tracing the long tendon with his lips. When he lifted his head, his attention followed the line of his shirt collar, down to the front of his placket. Thank God. Three buttons of Casey’s shirt were undone, a bit of springy chest hair peeking out where the rumpled cotton shirt split in a V. What it did to him was crazy. He couldn’t help but double his efforts of persuasion.

“You’re tight ...here.”

“I am? Then you should ... go lower, kid ....”

Chuck’s fingers crept downward, sweeping the small of his back. Back and forth. “I could never get tired ... of being like this.”

He could hear Casey swallow, pictured him closing his eyes. “What are you doing, kid?” he asked, his voice becoming a bit husky.

Frankly, Chuck didn’t have the first clue. He blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I trust you.”

“I know.” Casey reached back to run his palm down Chuck’s thigh. There was a quiet between them then. “What’s gotten into you, brown eyes?”

“Well. Nothing yet,” Chuck answered. Wow. Did he really say that? But before he could think too much about Casey’s mystified expression, the kid slid a firm palm over the curve of one buttock. “I was going to ask you to come upstairs,” he confessed, eyes shyly meeting his. “But I changed my mind.”

Casey’s grip at his thigh curled in, thumb sliding over his jeans. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing, tiger?” he growled.

“Honestly? No.” When Casey slanted his head to look at him, the piercing blue gaze was almost enough for him to chicken out. But straightening his body, Chuck wrapped his arms more tightly around him, fingers easing a little lower, watched as Casey put down the knife and dropped one of his hands to rest on his. “This is all kind of new to me.”

Even Casey failed to repress a reaction, giving away everything when his muscles bunched up along his back, a sexy little tightening to his limbs that the kid felt along his body. “Then let me warn you. Keep your hands there, and you won’t have to think. You’ll be going up the stairs. Thrown over my back.”

“Interesting proposal,” Chuck mumbled against Casey’s neck, and now he was already semi-erect from the image in his head. His fingers eased into a more rhythmic stroke than a clutch, dragging over his lower abdomen. Then a bit lower. “But I had a different idea.”

Casey pressed back, maybe wanting to feel the leaner hard body against his spine. “Like what?”

“Well, I noticed something,” Chuck said, lips ghosting over the back of his neck, his jaw brushing Casey’s. “I hate to tell you this, big guy, but you smell like nine hours on the trail, a turkey hunt – and I hate to say this – Vic’s stall.”

Casey’s blue eyes rose, narrowed. “You don’t exactly smell like buttercups, princess.”

“That’s my point, John.” It seemed everything inside the kid constricted, fueled by the ache of touching, waiting. Mustering up his courage, he let his hand drift down to the front of the jeans Casey was wearing and palmed him through them. “My proposal is to take you down to the creek, get you ... well, naked ... and take care of your problem.”

-x-

“For someone who doesn’t especially like the creek, I have to say, cupcake, you’re moving like your socks are on fire.”

“I’m not wearing any socks,” Chuck said without turning around, since he was too busy pulling his boyfriend through the long grass to the creek’s edge. “And, to be absolutely frank, you won’t be wearing any in about two minutes from now.”

“Boots, too, I suppose?” Casey asked, the amusement in his voice hiding his astonishment. The kid had hardly initiated a kiss, for Christ sakes, and now it seemed Casey was about to get stripped, dunked, and demanded to fuck his bashful lover. “I have to ask kid, and don’t take it personally, but is that thing in your head going haywire?”

“I’m trying to understand how that could not be taken personally, but whatever.” Chuck adjusted his hold by trailing his fingers lower, but Casey saw it was only to hook them under his belt so that he could yank him along. “One of these days I’ll give you the twenty minute tutorial on how it works, but right – ouch! Damn!”

Casey blinked as the kid began hopping on one foot, showing a little poise as he did it since he didn’t let go of his belt loop. “What is it?”

“Sharp rock. Crap!”

“Should’ve had your boots on.”

Chuck gave him a look. “Get moving. For what I have planned, boots are a nuisance. Not that I would know, because I never tried – you know what? Just keep walking.”

When he felt a brusque tug, Casey’s mouth curved up in a wry smile. “When you break out of your shell, goddess, you don’t do it half-assed, do you?”

“Frankly, I don’t have a lot of history to go on – and here we are.” Chuck turned to face him fully and dragged him closer, only a few inches between them. His dark eyes coursed over his mouth, and then he timidly looked away, the lashes sweeping his cheeks. “Oh, boy.”

“Well, now what, genius,” Casey asked.

“I ... have to admit – it’s not my usual way around good-looking men – or heck, the not-so-handsome ones – but I think – wow, this is hard.”

“Just say it,” Casey coaxed, trying to get him to meet his eyes. Chuck was nervous, hell yes, he was, but that little tremor of his wiry body fed the hunger in Casey. “You brought me here.”

“I ... did, didn’t I?” Chuck finally turned his eyes back on him and laid a hand on Casey’s shirt, fingers splayed at the opening of his collar. “For once, wanting something ... or someone ... badly enough actually got me this far.”

Casey had to smile at the burst of honesty, though he was sure the kid was unable of anything but that. Lifting a hand, he brushed a few curls from Chuck’s forehead, and stole a glance down the steep slope of grass towards the burbling creek.

It hadn’t changed as much as the kid in front of him. The rushing stream was still calmer at the deep pool under the willow, a place where scouring water had scooped out weeds and muck, making the rocks smooth and the bottom sandy. Golden light skimmed off surface; the sun was just beginning to set on the edge of the surrounding foothills, bathing the meadow in yellow light.

Only one more thing could make the moment immaculate, and he already had that man holding him.

Even if it was by the belt loops.

Bringing an arm around him, he hooked his hand on the back of Chuck’s jeans, hauled him up against him with his thigh pressed in tight on his hip. Feel that? You caused it. Now what are you going to do? “After the last time I brought you here, I’m surprised you thought this was a good idea,” Casey said.

A deep flush crept up Chuck’s cheeks. “I think my prior dislike of the creek had something to do with being forcibly stripped and washed, but hey – maybe that was just me.”

“You warmed up to it ... by the time the sun went down that day.”

“Are you implying it took all day, plying me with your abundant charm?”

“Got you to spread ‘em, didn’t it?”

“Annnd there’s Exhibit A.”

Casey made a ‘bite me’ noise and studied him thoroughly. The urge to end any games, take him by the collar and just strip him naked, had the power to make his fingers curl tight on the kid’s shirt, but he waited. After all, Chuck was the one who towed him out here, and if he had a vision of what he wanted to do, and how, Casey was more than willing to play along. He was only curious how far this spurt of daring would take him.

“You brought me out here to do what exactly?” Casey asked mildly, tucking his thumb in his front jean pocket and straightening his sizable body.

“Well.” Chuck pushed a hand through his hair. “Go swimming?”

Great. This was what he gets for letting Chuck take the lead without a hand-drawn map. “All right.” Casey nodded at the creek. “What ... do you want me to do?”

Going one step at a time was something the kid could deal with. “First, let’s get rid of this, shall we?” Chuck suggested, the shy smile Casey couldn’t resist easily securing permission to touch the holster’s buckle. “I don’t think we’re going to need the bullets where we’re going.”

“Never know,” Casey said, but he felt wriggling on his midsection, and answered it by jutting his hips out for Chuck to work on the buckle. One of the amazing things about the kid was his ability to do things with those deft hands quickly. Casey heard the unfastening, but he kept his eyes on Chuck’s face, his head tilted down. As he worked, Chuck bit down on his tongue, just the pink tip peeking out between his lips. Casey found himself fixated on it, and it brought ideas -

“Here we go.” Even with the quirky fastener, Chuck had the holster off in a few seconds. Leave it to Chuck to hold it up like a snake ready to strike. “Um, should I ...?”

“On the ground, kid,” Casey told him. It was the place he’d like to have the kid’s back, but watching him act like a damn virgin while trying to figure out what to do next was more than a distraction. It made his breath hitch a little, and he realized he was going to have to prod him if he wanted it to keep moving in the right direction. “Anything else you’d like to get rid of before throwing me in?”

“Smart ass.” Chuck set the holster on the ground, still trying not to actually touch it. When he stood, his smile faded to something solemn, matching the intensity in his eyes. “Come here,” he said, his hand moving up and under the hem of his shirt, sliding over the sensitive flesh of his ribcage. “I’ll show you.”

There were a few moments of difficulty, as the kid kept touching his skin under his shirt, because the skittishness was still holding him back. Even if his hand was now moving down his side and a couple of knuckles slid into his waistband, Chuck wasn’t quite there yet.

His next tactic became palpable while Casey focused on the hand under his shirt. The kid leaned in, kissed him tenderly, relaxing against his hard body and letting Casey taste the sweet tang of his mouth. As he kissed, there were warm fingers now at his shirt collar, brushing the hollow of his throat. The mystery of why he had moved his hands was solved a few seconds later when Casey realized the kid was unfastening his shirt’s buttons. At the moment he gave Chuck an appreciative nip on the bottom lip, the placket fluttered open. Two sure hands took hold of each side of the collar, and tugged.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking this,” and Chuck slid the shirt from his shoulders, down his biceps, forearms, and tossed it in the grass without watching where it landed.

Casey wasn’t even sure if Chuck noticed how close one foot was to a silt covered rock at the edge of the water. He seemed to have other places for his dark eyes to linger right now.

“Ho – wow. Okaaaay, then.” Chuck seemed to be blinking a lot.

“Am I supposed to be flattered, muffin?” Casey asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Chuck was content to rock back on his heels and stare his fill for a solid ten seconds. “Are you ... puffing up your chest a little?”

“Hell, no.” Casey straightened, taking advantage of the extra inch or two of height he had on the kid to loom over him. “See any reason why I would have to do that?”

“Uh, no reason.” Chuck kept grinning without repentance. “Well. That confirms it. My fixation from age sixteen still holds true.”

“Yeah?” Casey raised a brow. “What’s that?”

Wary, Chuck shuffled in a step until his bare feet touched Casey’s boots. Still looking a bit gob-smocked, he placed a hand on Casey’s waist and drew it up, slowly, feeling every muscle, every rib.

“This,” he admitted softly, and then his hand swept over the fine layer of hair on the pecs and the line that led downward. “And especially this ... Jesus.”

He didn’t laugh, or even smile. The kid was serious.

Casey held utterly still as Chuck’s hand traced the swell of his left pec, and hesitating, the kid scraped his fingernail lightly over the circle of the uneven texture of the areola, then his nipple. And as he drew a line across his skin, out to the muscular flesh of his sides, Casey felt his cock begin to harden at the touch. Reflexively, both arms fell to his sides, giving Chuck’s hands access to explore. It wasn’t a goddamn surrender. He just got tired of holding them over his chest.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Casey murmured.

“Can you stay like this ... for a minute?”

The sense of scorching heat hovered in the space between them, under his fingertips where the kid’s hands left invisible burns, over his chest, his heart. Casey exhaled and closed his eyes, his jaw flexing. He couldn’t move if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to.

How long he stayed like that, he had no idea. It was so easy to get lost under caress of Chuck’s fingers, digging, tracing over the tense line of muscle, at one time drifting close to his groin.

“Love ... this,” he heard Chuck whisper. Then the kid ran his knuckles down the center of his chest, keeping Casey hypnotized – hell, he could stop him if he wanted to, he was still in control – until a pair of soft lips were pressed to his. “Is this ... okay?” Chuck asked tentatively against his mouth. “I just wanted to touch you ... first.”

Casey opened his eyes, his hands smoothing over the outside of Chuck’s shirt, feeling the hard, rangier physique it was hiding. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” he said, though his sentiment was accompanied by running a hand down his ass to keep him close.

Chuck quivered, jerked his hips forward, his eyes fastened on Casey’s face. “I did warn you that I’m still new at this, and since the next stop is, well –” He paused to look down at Casey’s jeans. “Pants, I thought I should remind you that parts of me are still a little freaked out about doing things that I only recently started doing.”

Casey bent forward and bumped his nose with his, stole a quick kiss since proximity demanded it. “Kid, do you really think I would hurt you?”

“No, God no!” One of the kid’s hands slid around Casey’s waistband, fingers drawing right above his jeans to hold him there. “It’s just that ... okay, I got us this far. But that brave guy you saw a while ago? Now that I’m here, with you?” He scratched the back of his head to burn some time, stealing a look at the creek. “He’s not so sure he should be the one ... telling you what to do. I’m the previously-held hostage and punching bag, now being a bit bold - and God, look at you. Idiot, I know, right?”

As Casey’s touch moved from Chuck’s waist, over his shoulder to cup his head, a deep breath left the kid. Casey was aroused, but he wasn’t going any further until he knew he had the kid’s full attention.

“This is the deal,” he said. “Let’s stick with our strengths. When we get in the water, your job is to get us clean.”

“I can do that.” Chuck lifted a brow under his mop of hair. “What about you?”

“That’s easy.” Casey shrugged, grinning at him. “My job will be to get us dirty again.”

-x- End Chapter Fifteen Sins Fell Angels-x-


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Sixteen

-x-

The offer made Chuck swallow and reach for something. Somehow, his hand landed on Casey’s waist, just above his jeans. “Your job?”

“Know how to use a bar of soap, don’t you?” Casey asked.

“It has been a while,” Chuck replied, sniffing, though he hardly needed the reminder that he stunk. Gaining some confidence, his eyes traveled down Casey’s body, and then he smiled. “You drive a hard bargain, outlaw, but you may have found your man.”

The smile Casey returned was just sexy enough to make Chuck’s insides twist. That was nothing when a second later he moved Chuck’s hand over to the front of his jeans. “Good,” Casey said, bumping his hips forward. “You can start here.”

“Here? Oh, uh, right.” Leave it to Casey to get this game moving. But even as Chuck’s fingers slid deeper into Casey’s waistband, the kid had to glance up to ensure his lover wasn’t grinding a laugh between his teeth. “This isn’t a trick, is it?”

“Trick?”

“Well, sure. Let’s say I start to take your pants, and before you know it, I’m flat on my back under a tree, stripped naked, and wondering how -”

“Better take them, kid, before you give me any ideas.”

Chuck let out a breath, because he had ideas, too. Heart-pounding, sweat-drenched ones. He just didn’t share them. The kid only knew that they had kept him awake at night for weeks after Casey left him. But having the flesh and blood man, chest to chest, and the feeling of warm skin and muscle against him was another thing altogether.

If he was being honest with himself, it was a bit intimidating. Everything between them was still a delicate, instinctive give and take.

Yet as Casey touched his arm, Chuck heard the reason he went along with this diversion. Almost as if he had spoken it aloud.

I want to see what you’re willing to do.

Chuck jumped out of his thoughts and looked down at his hand, reflexively tightening on Casey’s jeans. He couldn’t help sliding the tips of his fingers beneath the waistband to touch his sparse hair under his belly button. God, all of him was equally parts warm and hard.

“What do you want, kid?” Casey asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

“These,” Chuck told him, astonished with his own decisiveness, though Casey seemed to like it. “Off they go, but only because you insist.”

“Like your part of the deal, do you,” Casey observed, watching Chuck’s hands get busy. He didn’t offer to help, choosing instead to be the spectator in this sport. “I should warn you to be ... careful with the merchandise.”

“Oh, no worries.” Chuck tipped his head up to flash a quick grin. “Your merchandise is in expert hands.”

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Casey said, absorbed with studying him as two buttons popped open. “Dexterous little shit, too, I see.”

“You mean when I do this?” Chuck braced himself, and his eyes drifted down Casey’s bare chest, then to the pants slung low on his hips. And even though he knew it was okay, his nerves rippled with excitement as he slid his hand down over denim, cupped.

“Jesus ...” Casey breathed. The last thing he expected right then was to get fondled through his jeans, which was the very reason Chuck did it.

“You should know by now, big guy, that my hands are my best - Oh ... wow.”

Chuck bit down on his bottom lip and squeezed him firmly over the jeans. Now it was his turn to be taken off guard, simply because his boyfriend was already hard as a rock and enormous.

“Problem?” Casey asked.

“N-nooo, no problem at all.” Chuck grinned. Holy shit on a half shell, he thought, and his fingers skimmed up to the buttons again. “Maybe I should, uh, take care of these before –”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that, muffin,” and the kid felt his lover’s hand grip his waist as he struggled with one last stubborn button. “You might need to get down on your knees ... if you wanna get them off all the way.”

“I should tell you, your elusive subtleties aren’t going to work this time.” There. He finally managed to unfasten the last button. “Besides, did you forget? You put me in charge of the washing tasks ... before whatever you might be implying.”

“Sure are taking your sweet ass time at it, too.” Casey’s thumb slid up and over Chuck’s jeans, caressing bare skin under his shirt. “Are you forgetting something, kid?”

Chuck paused, giving that a brief second of worry. His breath was catching now that he had touched pubic hair. “What did I forget? Did I -”

“Boots.”

“Oh.” Chuck looked down. Not surprisingly, Casey had a point. “I see that. You should’ve said something.”

“I’m saying something now.” Casey watched him, eyes glittering with amusement. “Better get down there ... and use those problem-solving skills of yours.”

To spite him, Chuck deliberately did not look down. Casey was taking the division of their responsibilities very seriously. “You’re really going to make me take off your boots, aren’t you?”

Casey just smiled. “You’re the one who wanted me naked in the creek, kid. And I’m sure you don’t want me to have to kick your ass for ruining a decent pair of boots.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

His lover responded by leaning in and indulging himself with a shoulder bite, and then slid two big hands up the kid’s ribcage. “Do it,” he said to him in low voice. “Boots ... pants ... whatever you want ... you can take.”

Chuck stepped back, flustered by the offer. He wanted to take. All of him. But the truth? He wasn’t quite ready to just fall to his knees and suck him off as a quickie. Kind of took some of the romance out of the equation.

“Easy, cowboy.” His options limited, however, Chuck got down on his haunches and tapped one of Casey’s calves. “Swim first. Then ... I’ll let you properly seduce me into anything else you may have in mind.”

Casey perused Chuck’s body and snorted. “Oh, there’s nothing proper that I have in mind when it comes to you, goddess.”

“Nice visual,” Chuck muttered. “Now be a good boy and lift – ow.”

Strong fingers, very strong, suddenly threaded through his hair and swiveled his head upward, relaxing the tiniest amount only when Casey had Chuck’s full attention. “You’d like to rephrase that, puppy?”

“Man. I meant man.” With the tugging in his curls, Chuck figured now was not the time to point out the rather obvious double standard. “Lift? I don’t know how else I can get these off.”

Eyeing him only for a second, Casey went ahead and removed each boot, one followed by the other. Chuck sat back on his knees and watched, dutifully tossing them in the grass as Casey handed them off to him.

After that, he quickly stood before Casey could get any supplementary ideas. “You know,” Chuck said, lifting his chin to meet Casey’s aqua-blue eyes, “you’re barely taller than me with your boots off.”

“Yeah? Fantastic,” Casey said. He swept his glance downward to the ground, obviously peeved that Chuck wasn’t there looking up at him. “Suppose in this grand plan of yours, this is as far as it gets? We’ll go swimming with pants on? Keep it ... virtuous, maybe?”

“Uh, no. You’re well aware of my status in that regard.” Chuck put his hands on Casey’s waist, then brazenly slid his fingers lower, hating the fact that he could feel a blush rising. “These are mine, buster.”

Casey responded with a small smile and inclined his head to watch the kid try to pull his jeans down his hips. Attempt to, anyway. The kid found out rather hurriedly that the task was a bit more difficult with no help from the person wearing the jeans.

Chuck just looked up and down the legs in front of him before he cleared his throat. “You’re really going to stand there and watch me do this, aren’t you?”

“I like watching you.” Casey dragged a hand down one of Chuck’s arms, leaving a path of prickly heat. His eyes held that humor without losing a watt of intensity. “Good to see you finally grow some balls ... maybe ... take what you want.”

The kid ducked his head, getting his thumbs inside the waistband of undershorts and jeans. Hey, technically, it was more efficient to take both at once. “Okay, you ... just stand there and be quiet,” he said, tugging hard. “Without the editorial comments - oh shit.”

Casey put his hands on his hips. “What?”

“Oh ... n-nothing ....” Chuck got busy looking at the tree behind Casey’s head, and gave another good tug. “Hell-oh.”

Nothing being the woeful understatement in this scenario. Only because with one adamant yank, Casey’s cock had sprung free from the undershorts, giving Chuck an up-close view of what he had cupped with his fingers - through the jeans - a few minutes ago. It didn’t help that Casey stood close, and Chuck had to force himself not to reach between them to stroke him. Maybe run his knuckles along his length...

No, he had a job to do.

Dang it.

“You’re right, big guy,” Chuck managed, bending to slide the jeans down perfectly rounded calves. “From every ... indication, you do like to watch me take your pants.”

“Shut up, kid.”

“And I guess I’ll shut up now,” Chuck echoed, keeping his grin pointed at the ground. Taking off the pants should be simple. It wasn’t. Not with a dick in his face, which made it a little difficult to concentrate. Harder still when he felt impossibly smooth yet tight skin graze his cheekbone. Chuck guessed that wasn’t his finger.

“Want to ... get it clean, kid?” Casey asked in a scratchy voice. “I wouldn’t mind ....”

When Chuck mustered enough courage to look up, he could only see a bobbing cock an inch from his nose, stiff and ... it still amazed him that he had the power to do that to a man. Especially a man he wanted just as badly.

“Um. It’s a little hard to get wet when we’re this far from the water, and –”

Casey cut off the rambling by laying a palm on the back of his neck. Strangely, it began to massage rather than strangle him. “I won’t complain if there’s no soap,” he said. “More fun this way ....”

“That was very ... uh, convincing, by the way.” Chuck pulled his eyes upward and scrambled to his feet. When he did, it took everything not to flinch at the perturbed look from his lover. “But not so fast, Romeo. Remember? You put me in charge of clean-up detail, and my rule is that we have to -”

“You know what?” Casey interrupted. “You have more goddamn rules than the Catholic Church. Do I have to say five fucking Hail Marys and slip some rosary beads up your bung to get a decent blow job around here?”

Chuck gaped at the descriptiveness. “On a related note, one thing I never shared with you is that I’m not Catholic.”

“Well, I am.”

“Wow.” Chuck’s jaw hinged a bit further. “Lapsed, hum?”

Casey grunted.

“Okay, then.” Chuck paused for a minute before remembering his boyfriend stood in front of him without a stitch of clothing and, very notably, not an ounce of blood left in his body above the waist. “I’m ... just going to ... change the topic now, because I can see -”

“Clothes off.” Casey hauled him in by his arm, bit the curve of his neck with a growl. “Now. All the way, kid. I want to see it.”

Nothing about this was a suggestion. It was an order, and with Casey’s lips now teasing the sensitive spot he had nipped, the kid figured that this was not the time to argue.

Not that he had any intention to do something that crazy. Getting naked together was the reason he brought Casey out here, after all.

“The last time we did this,” Chuck began to babble again, “you might’ve ripped my shirt, but this might be one of your shirts. You let me borrow one when we were at Silver Plume, and I think I’ve lost track of my how many times you’ve -”

“Shut your mouth,” Casey said with weight on each syllable, “and strip off your clothes.” He nodded at the worn-out shirt, his gaze holding the kid’s steadily. “Any part of this seem confusing to you, Bartowski?”

“Not outwardly, no.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Then do it.”

Chuck sighed, caught between the urge to do as he demanded and fidgetiness at the knowledge he had to look like utter crap. Even Casey couldn’t deny he had lost some weight, hadn’t gotten a haircut in weeks, and needed a shave since the day they had fled Black Rock.

All that mattered when he slanted a look over at Casey, though, was the hunger in his boyfriend’s eyes. The kid didn’t get it – why him, looking like this? – but it was an expression that put a slow burn in his belly. He didn’t know what to call it, but it filled him with the sense that no matter what Chuck’s impression was, Casey saw something else. That he wanted, very badly.

“You know,” Chuck said, “if I swim with the shirt on, you won’t have to do my laundry later.”

“Or I could tear it off in little pieces, and no one will have to wash it.”

“Wow. That’s actually ... scary.”

“Shirt.” Casey folded his arms. There was no change in his face. “Now.”

“You have a way with words,” Chuck said, reaching for the hem. He stopped and looked at him for a moment, searching for ridicule or something more humbling. Seeing nothing but approval in the eyes watching him, he smiled. “And I guess they worked on me.”

“Not the only thing that’ll be working on you if don’t strip it off.”

“You could’ve stopped while you were ahead.” Chuck laughed and took a step backwards, trying to play it cool as he gave himself room to get undressed. He took off his shirt first, pulling it free and tossing it on the grass next to Casey’s jeans.

He didn’t want to do it, but it was automatic, brought on from years of living within a gawky body where he always thought nothing seemed to fit. Arms and legs that were too long, big feet that always seemed to find a way to trip over a chair or whatever was handy.

So promptly after the shirt hit the ground, his arms came up and crossed over his chest, hiding what he thought was far from perfect.

Standing next to Casey didn’t help.

“Uh, ta da?” Chuck waved a few fingers without moving his arms. “Try to withhold your applause. I’ll be back for a show later tonight, if you can’t get enough of the -”

“C’mere, brown eyes.” When Casey closed the distance between them, his hands landed on Chuck’s forearms, gripping hard enough to move him without hurting him at all. “You have nothing to be shy about, kid,” he said. Holding Chuck’s arms down at his sides, his eyes coursed over every inch of bare skin he had revealed. “Everything I see ... I like.”

Chuck turned his head to the side, feeling inexplicable skittish at the open perusal. “You have to say that,” he joked lamely. “I think it’s in the boyfriend handbook or something.”

“Yeah? Have you gotten to this part yet?” Casey, still holding his arms down, bent forward and kissed the fragile slope of his neck. “Don’t know what’s going through that crazy head of yours, Chuck,” he said against his warm skin, “but, for me, you look good enough to eat.”

So that was it. Casey had no issue with his rangy, almost to the point of skinny body, or disheveled mop of curls. With his lips beneath his ear, his hair brushing the kid’s temple, Chuck felt an awkward but overpowering flood of response in his cock, the tightening of every muscle in his body. The desire to please Casey in the way he had already pleased him ratcheted up a thousand times over.

“You do know that I’m going to hold you to that.” Chuck’s mouth had been running ahead of his brain and he had to cringe. “Not the eating part, the good-looking part.”

Casey chuckled at the thought. “You think so, huh? ‘Cause the other part sounds tempting.”

When he looked over at Casey, Chuck wondered if that expression meant now. “So, this is nice, huh?” he asked, blushing deeper. “The creek. The sun ... with the way -”

“Yeah, it’s pretty,” Casey said without taking his eyes from him. “Take off your pants.” He let go of Chuck’s wrists and closed one hand on his hip. “Let’s go. I’m naked. You’re next. This is taking so long my dick is going to dry up and fall off.”

Chuck gave a fleeting look down and back up. “I highly doubt it,” he noted. “I know you’re going to think is this a weird request, but would you mind -”

“I am not turning around, kid.”

“I – all righty, then. Just thought I’d ask.” Chuck gulped, giving away a nervousness that he didn’t understand, and looked down at himself. Boy, he was right about the creek and needing a wash. He was filthy.

Chuck began working on the top button when Casey slid his arm under Chuck’s. His hand moved to the front of the jeans he was wearing. “Looks like you need some help, pancake.”

“I can – ah –”

Casey lent a hand anyway, which didn’t surprise the kid. Strong, sure fingers slipped under the top button of Chuck’s jeans, working on the next two until he could take the opening half-mast.

Presumably, that was enough to get what he wanted.

“Yeah ... there,” Casey murmured, leaning in to kiss the shocked look off of the kid’s face. While he did that, Casey’s hand went lower and palmed him through the pants, cupping as much of his length as he could before giving him a healthy squeeze. “Don’t worry, kid. You may be skinny, but you’ve got meat where it counts.”

“Wow.” Chuck batted his hand away, despite the fact he liked it where it was. “If this is a seduction, you need to bump it up about ten notches just to be really bad at this.”

“Not here to romance you,” Casey said, giving him another kiss on his mouth, his jaw. “Nothing flowery or sweet is gonna happen here.” After that, he stepped back and nodded, waiting for him to get the jeans off. “Move it.”

“Oh,” Chuck said, staring back at him. “So, that’s candid.” Honestly, he was just beginning to know the difference between making love and ... that. One was like falling into a bath of velvet or chocolate. The other was tangled with raw urges, pushed by weeks of abandonment and sacrifice.

Both had a time and a place.

And if he had any doubts which one would happen tonight, well, Casey would fuck those right out of him, too.

Chuck had no reason to be spooked, right? Hell, he wanted it too, just as badly. It was only ... with Casey standing there, tall and naked and – face facts - perfect, getting naked to stand next to him could be slightly imposing. Okay, a lot.

What idiot thought this was a good idea, being outside, every flaw revealed? Like a magnifying glass under the last golden splashes of evening sunlight.

“Chuck, look at me.” When the kid obeyed, Casey’s hand touched his jaw, holding him there. “I know what’s in your head, and I’ve seen every inch of you – hell, touched practically all of you, too.” A soft smile tugged at his lips as he reached around him to run a hand over the small of his back, dipping down to roll over his jeans. “So I’m still trying to figure out what the fuck you want to hide from me.”

“Nothing.” Not too much, anyway.

Liar.

Casey eyed him thoughtfully. “God ... so damn pretty,” Chuck thought he heard, right before he was kissed again, Casey teasing his mouth with easy pushes of his tongue. Chuck parted his lips since Casey seemed to want that. There was a groan when he did, and Casey pushed his thigh between Chuck’s legs, backing him up a step.

Wait. What did Casey just say?

Chuck pulled back and resisted the urge to clean out his ears. “You don’t really think – because if you take a good look -”

“Can it, kid. You may be pretty, but you don’t listen worth a shit.” Tough words, but to make him smile, Casey punctuated the observation by putting his hip firmly against Chuck’s denim-covered thigh, letting him feel how his cock was hard as steel. “Jeans are next. Move your ass, or I’ll do it.”

Chuck did the mature move and stuck out his tongue at him, since the compliment had dissolved so quickly. “I think men prefer handsome,” he said. No longer hesitating, he removed his jeans, feeling Casey’s watchful eyes along his bare thighs, long slender calves.

“Know what I like about you, kid ...?”

“No.” And no matter what Casey was looking at, he told himself not to peek down. This meant he immediately did. Oh God. His cock was leaking already, so erect it brushed his lower abdomen.

“Turn around,” Casey said, one finger making a circle in the air. “I want to see you, long legs. Then I’ll tell you.”

The kid did it, and as he completed the turn, a lewd, low whistle burned his ears. “There. Should we get in the water?”

“Not yet. Keep your eyes up, too.”

His hands clenched at his sides, then opened. The habit of crossing them in front of himself almost made him do it, but so far Casey had withheld any further comments. Chuck let out a breath and met his eyes, and strangely, he was no longer ashamed. It had everything to do with the look of hungry appreciation in Casey’s bright blue eyes.

As Casey moved in to him, he closed his hand around Chuck’s cock. “Oh no,” Chuck whispered. He sucked in a breath and shut his eyes, feeling his balls draw up dangerously close to embarrassing himself before they even started. He was. He so was if he kept his hand there.

“Christ, kid, all of you,” Casey told him, chuckling softly. He gripped Chuck’s length, testing the girth in his hand. “Nice as I remember.”

Chuck tried not to think of how good it felt. Well, failure, right there. He ended up watching Casey do it. Until he knew he had to stop. “John, I – I mean, if you want -”

Casey lifted his hand, reaching over to rub Chuck’s neck. “Since you’re so damn keen on getting washed up first, where’s the bar of soap?”

“Are you serious?” He moved his hand?!

“You’re the one that said I smell like Vic.”

“I might’ve been a bit presumptuous.”

“Hate to tell you this, kid, but you could use a bath, too.” Casey slid his hands down Chuck’s arm and backed him up against the tree, his hard-on pressing against Chuck’s hip. “You smell like you’ve been living in a barn.”

“You feel like you’d be happy not to be bothered by that.”

“Yeah?” Casey shifted a little and right there, his dick dragged along the kid’s. One hand came up to Chuck’s neck, pulling him in to give him more of his lips, kissing him hard. With a final smile against his mouth, he broke away. “I have plans for you, kid, and I want to make sure all of those sensitive areas don’t taste like horse hair.”

Chuck tried to hide it, but as it turned out, he could get even redder. And harder.

“I suppose this would be bad timing to tell you I forgot the soap?”

Casey’s eyes became slits. “This was your plan? Take me out here to get cleaned up ... and you forgot the soap?”

“Admittedly, I was a little caught up in the moment,” Chuck stammered, breathless, because Jesus. Their dicks were rising, rubbing and touching as each man moved, and Casey wanted soap? “I could go back to the house and scrounge some up, I guess.”

Thinking that the interruption might spoil everything, Chuck started to paw around on the grass for his jeans. He was brought to a stop by the feel of two hands holding him by the curve of his hips from behind. A dick slid in his crease, one hand dropping to fondle his balls. “What do you think you’re doing?” Casey asked, and his hold made Chuck’s mouth go dry. “Jeans?”

Chuck stood quickly and turned. “Sorry, but I’m not like you. I’m not walking back to the house naked. What if the neighbors saw me?”

“How far away did you say the nearest farm is?” Casey’s amused voice told him he already knew the answer.

Chuck looked in the direction of the weak sun-lit meadow, thistle and gorse, gradually giving way to the rolling hill. “Well – okay.” He hid his huffiness by keeping his eyes on the ridge. “Two miles.”

“And you’re afraid someone’s going to get a view of your skinny ass?”

“Point. But on a related note, can you guarantee that no one would choose this moment to come down the trail?”

“God, there is no winning this one.” Casey rolled his eyes. “You stay there and look pretty, princess. And don’t even think about getting your clothes back on.”

“Hey, wait. What about these?” As Casey walked away, Chuck bent over and scooped up Casey’s jeans. He gave them a little wave in his direction. “Do you want – oh.”

Though he had kept his head down, Chuck had managed to sneak a look at him trudging through the grass, leaving him waiting there bare naked, dirty, and feeling exposed.

It should’ve riled him a bit. It would’ve too, if it wasn’t for the view that was afforded by having Casey walking away.

He was right about not needing pants. With the sunlight across his shoulders, Casey didn’t look back as he waded through the tall plumes of grass, long stalks of squirrel tale reaching up to his thighs.

And Chuck stood there with his mouth shut for once. Observing things, like the curve of his lower back, the way the muscles across his shoulders rolled under his skin. Sure, Chuck had taken a good look at his lover’s backside before, but for the time being, the kid had to gape at – and revere – ass muscles. Who knew there was such a thing?

Chuck sunk back against the tree, plucked a piece of grass to twiddle with as he stared, and forgot to be self-conscious of his own nakedness. There had to be a name for those distinct muscles, and Ellie would, of course, grace his ears with the Latin term, but in Chuck’s mind he was content to call them Holy Christ, I could bite them, and leave it at that.

Feeling something in his hand, Chuck realized he was still holding Casey’s jeans. “You really thought that was a good idea, huh?” The kid shook his head at himself and tossed the pants to the ground, not taking his eyes from him. “You know, that’s a special kind of moron to even suggest it.”

By now, he was too occupied with staring to answer himself. Every step to the house, his eyes stayed pinned to his boyfriend until he disappeared inside. That was when Chuck thought he should’ve told him where to find the soap, but a second later Casey appeared with his pack slung over his shoulder.

Whoa. The view coming back was as good or better, because it was now the frontal features that had the kid’s attention. He blushed even harder. My God, he was staring and that was rude, but the arc of his dick, his confident stride, was feeding Chuck’s response in his loins. The desire to be with him was there, but he had to admit it was combined with confusion.

What the hell did a man like that see in a skinny tall runaway from Boston?

“Casey’s right. Shut up,” he told his brain, smiling as Casey approached. Just enjoy what you have, okay? It was easy enough to do. Particularly when the man striding towards him made Chuck swallow the excess saliva pooled in his mouth.

“I would ask if my fly is open, but I’m not wearing pants.”

Chuck darted his eyes towards the creek and scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. Dammit. Busted. “Did you happen to stumble into anyone on your trip? Give them a little scare?”

“Little. Heh.” Casey snorted and slung the pack off his shoulder, setting it on the ground. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I ran into that gun-toting blonde who likes to come sniffing around here. She was looking for a roll in the hay with you, or if you wanted to play hard to get, at least hump your leg.”

“And I’m already sorry I brought it up.”

“I told her to skedaddle along back home to her farm.” Casey shrugged, enjoying the kid’s discomfort, and began digging in his pack. When he pulled out a blanket, he began flattening it out while his gaze traveled down Chuck’s body. “The good news is I don’t think she’ll be back. I let her know she was barking up the wrong bean pole.”

“What?”

“Missing the equipment?” Casey said with a smirk. “Your barrel won’t fit her holster?”

“I meant what are you doing ... with the blanket? And besides, you’re lying about her.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, kid.” Without looking up, he walked around the blanket and straightened the other corners. “Just try to let her down easy, stud. Tell her you can still be friends.”

“Would you stop?” Chuck decided to let it go, instead absorbed with watching Casey carefully spreading out a blanket on the grass. “Did you ... get the soap?”

“In my pack. Want to grab it, since you’ve already helped yourself to my things?”

“Still miffed over me rescuing you at the bank, I see,” Chuck grumbled but he dug around a little until he found it. “Voila. Soap.”

“Don’t drop it,” Casey told him. Satisfied with the makeshift bed on the grass, he rose to his full height and regarded the kid head to toe. “Hate to see how quickly your bargain will end if you bend over one more time.”

Chuck’s brows furrowed. “You can be a real asshole without even trying too hard, you know that?”

Casey grunted, damn right, and held out his hand for the soap. Then tried to grab it when he saw Chuck give it a sniff test.

“Huh. What is that?”

“Lavender. Hand it over.”

Processing that bit of news, Chuck tilted his head at him. “You are a very complicated man.”

Casey crossed over the blanket and didn’t hesitate to run a hand over the slope of his ass. “Nothing complicated about this, cupcake. I like what I’m seeing.” He stuck his thumb towards the creek. “Time to show me what you can do with a little soap and water.”

The kid’s eyes slowly traveled down, tripping over swells of arm and chest muscles. “Um, do you have a cloth, or something I can use to wash you?”

Casey turned a bland look on him. As it was, Chuck was getting better at reading those looks, and this one said ‘you can be a real dumbass sometimes’.

“Jesus. The point is to use your hands. You got a pair of those, don’t you?”

He almost glanced down at them, but that would only encourage him. “I keep reminding you I’m new at this, but it doesn’t seem to –”

“Come on, brown eyes.” Casey’s voice was softer, holding a bit of protective authority. “Give me your hand.”

Chuck did, and Casey wrapped his fingers around it, steering him down to the edge of the burbling creek. The grass gave way to sand, studded with flat rocks under the surface, slick with algae. “I fell on one of the rocks once and hit a stump,” Chuck began to explain, holding tight to his hand. “I didn’t drowned – oh, you probably know that, but I did get a – ow. Dang pebbles!”

“That’s why I’ve got your hand.”

“You’ve got my hand because if I fall and break something off, you’ll be very sorry tonight.”

“That too.”

“Ah. Cold ... cold.” Chuck splashed in behind him, gritting his teeth at the chill in the water, following Casey as he moved further to the middle. Not that he had a choice. Casey’s strong grip didn’t waver, and even though Chuck wanted to stop to get used to the change in temperature, he was towed in, water lapping at his lower abdomen. “Not as cold as before,” he began, sucking in his stomach when the water hit him there. “Uh, remember the first time ... we went swimming here? It was earlier in the spring, and I think the runoff from the foothills -”

“You know what else is running off right now?”

Chuck frowned at the back of Casey’s head. “Not interested in the water cycle, I see. That’s quite all right. I have plenty of material – hey – what –”

Casey let go of his hand. He went under and came back up, water running off his shoulders, trailing down his back. “Go under, kid,” he said, looking back at him. “Over here.”

With the water now lapping at their chests, Casey dove under the surface, a flash of pale skin cutting through the river as he moved towards the other side. Chuck already knew that the creek widened at a bend on the opposite bank, creating a tranquil pool with a flat rock above the surface. Perfect for stretching out in the sun, and now he could see Casey was headed there.

At least if he went under, the kid figured he’d get rid of the first layer of dirt and trail dust, still clinging to places he didn’t want to think about. And let’s be real. Casey would just pull him under, anyway, if he hesitated about going into the still-chilly water.

Casey emerged from the creek about ten feet away, stopping at the side of the rock. “Didn’t see this before,” Casey said, judging its size. “Not bad, pancake.”

“Well, if I recall, you were slightly preoccupied that day – and did you think that maybe I wasn’t ready to share my secret spot with you?”

Casey turned back to grin at him. “Bartowski, I don’t even know where to start with that.”

“Well, first stop looking at me,” Chuck mumbled and quickly drew his attention back to the rock. “Climb up. I promise there’s no better place for drying off in the sun.”

Casey lifted himself up onto the rock and shook his head side to side, water droplets flying, and now it was him who looked like a puppy. “I think you’re on to something here,” he said. Scooting around to take a seat on the rock’s even surface, he then turned to look at the kid. “Thought you we’re going under. I don’t need to go over there and dunk you do I?”

“No coercion necessary. Just getting used to it.” Chuck normally took his time adjusting to the water, so he looked up to make a face at his boyfriend for his impatience.

Except when he tilted his head up, his vision was filled with the sight of his physically daunting lover leaning back on his arms, one long leg dangling over the edge of the rock into the water. One knee bent, giving him the perfect view of –

Chuck blinked up at him, and before the whole gaping scenario got humiliating, he dove under the surface. What he saw was still there in his mind. The lines of his body, muscles that flowed smoothly over the curve of his chest, wet curly chest hair stuck to his skin. God, the man was beautiful. Does he even know it?

Eyes shut, Chuck swam under water with his hands groping, knowing he would touch the huge rock if he just went a little further. The first thing he felt, however, was cool and slippery, firm to his touch. Casey’s calf.

A second later, a big hand clamped down on his bicep, circled tightly, and pulled. It was impossible for Chuck to do anything but pop his head out of the water, sputtering at being snatched up so abruptly. “Ga – what? Why did you do that?”

“The hell,” Casey growled, lowering his head and filling Chuck’s vision with a face full of concern. “Everything we went through, and now you’re gonna drowned?”

Chuck ran a hand down his face, coughing a little. “What? That was swimming!”

“Ah, fuck,” Casey’s muttered. His grip curled in, his thumb sliding back and forth over Chuck’s upper arm. A caress, but it gave the kid a sense it was Casey’s way to get assurance that he was okay. “Who taught you to swim?”

“Uh, no one. I taught myself.”

“Figures. Here. Give me your hand.” That was the only warning before Casey pulled in a six foot plus dripping, naked catch of the day. “Hell. Ever think to tell me you don’t know how to swim?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chuck argued, slithering around to sit next to him. “It’s not like ... well ... they would never let me near the water, you know.”

Casey turned and slid a hand behind him. “They ... as in the ones who want that thing in your head?”

Chuck swallowed hard and nodded.

“So the bastards wanted to make sure you were safe,” Casey said quietly as a slick hand ran up the kid’s back, traced along the bones of shoulders. “Or they would lose you.”

Chuck forced a sarcastic laugh and pushed a hand through his hair, ungluing the dark tendrils from his forehead. “We both know that it was only the Cipher that they cared about. They only see me as the unfortunate container of their beloved plaything, and if they could get it out of me and shove in someone else – hell, anyone else - they would.”

Casey tensed. Chuck felt it before he glanced over, confirming his suspicion when he saw Casey staring at the water without really seeing it. “I’m going to teach you,” he said after a silence. “You’re the one I’m not going to lose, got that? Not that damn thing in your head.”

A floating of their minds over water pushed Casey’s mesmerizing words into his brain. See yourself the way I see you. I see all of you.

The kid felt a tightening in his throat. He leaned into Casey’s shoulder, letting the soft swish of water around their feet fill the quiet for a moment.

“Thank you,” he said when he found his voice, and Chuck squeezed the hand of his lover, still splayed over his thigh. “Lucky for you, I’ve been told I’m a good student.”

“Well, there’s hope you can learn more than the puppy paddle.” Casey grinned, good- naturedly, and his hand slid out from his to travel up the kid’s thigh. “At least when it comes to other things, you’re not completely untrainable.”

“You should see me with a slingshot. I can knock a can off a rock in one shot.”

“So can I.” Casey poked him in the ribcage. “Wanna see it?”

“Hey!” Chuck scrambled over a little, though there was barely enough room for both of them, forcing the men to sit close together. Hardly classified as torture, Chuck figured. “If you drowned me, you won’t get your back washed. Did you think of that?”

“Maybe I’ll see if you’re any good at it,” Casey said, nudging his shoulder, “and then decide whether to drowned you or not.”

When Casey turned to him with teasing eyes, the kid’s gaze drifted down to Casey’s lips, wet from the creek. Damn if the enticement of taking a drink of him was too much for his brain. Just one cool taste; he had to do it.

“Your turn to shut up,” Chuck said, giving him a small lop-sided smile. And sitting on a rock next to the man he loved, the kid bent forward and gave him a rather impetuous, deep kiss, unexpected as it was.

He flushed strongly at the burning, wondering how cold water could scald so easily. Now he only tasted warmth, damp and salty at the same time. The only thing he knew was that he wanted more of it, and he kept on kissing him, his fingers digging into the meat of Casey’s pec. Maybe it hurt, but it didn’t seem to take Casey off his game. Not at all. His hands went to the small of Chuck’s back, sliding down over glistening skin, taking a firm hold of his ass. He squeezed, making Chuck gasp into his mouth.

“Drowning you seems less likely by the minute, cupcake,” Casey said, obviously pleased with Chuck taking the lead that time.

Chuck pulled back and ducked his head, catching only a glimpse of Casey’s amused eyes. “Such a sweet talker,” he replied, and seeing that Casey’s beefy shoulder was right there, he rightfully did the only thing a boyfriend would do to his mischievous lover. He bit him.

“Ow, you little shit.” Casey put a hand over his face and shoved him back, pretending to be offended. The smile he couldn’t repress ruined the effect. “Why don’t you grab the soap and make yourself useful?”

Chuck smiled back at him, though the prospect of soap made him pause. He wasn’t stupid. Hands-on exploration was the whole reason they were in the water. He definitely felt excitement, almost a tingling, at the prospect of it, but a knot of nervous tension drew a little tighter in his midsection. Being able to touch another man – wherever he wanted, how he wanted - was still new to him, and Casey might think he was nothing more than the doe-eyed innocent boy he used to be. Up until last month, anyway.

“Okay, well, luckily for you,” Chuck said, “I haven’t dropped it in the creek yet ... so .... here.” The kid lifted his legs out of the water and began scooting backwards over the top of the rock. “Ouch. Wow. It looks smooth, but you know what? It’s not. Crap.”

“Careful.” Casey grabbed one of his knees and joggled it playfully. “Don’t wanna get your backside all abraded yet, do you?”

“How am I supposed to wash you when you when you’re holding me like that? Oh, and by the way, I’m ignoring you.”

“Sure you are. Does staring count?”

“Not staring,” Chuck said defensively back at him, and he hoped Casey wouldn’t notice the new blush under the sheen of water on his cheeks. “Hold still ... I need to – whoa – what part of this is holding still, John? Afraid I’m going to push you off?”

“Heh.”

“Okay, true, but – there. Stay like that.” He wanted to remind Casey that skidding on his butt backwards over the rock was not the easiest maneuver in the world. It took a good deal of bumping along before Chuck finally managed to crawl behind Casey’s back. “See? I had a plan.”

“Sitting behind me, kid?” Casey half-turned. “If you’ve got any kind of plans I should know about ....”

“What?” The kid blinked at the devious grin for a minute, utterly confused.

Casey then squinted at him and shook his head.

“Um, here. I’ll show you,” Chuck said, holding the soap in front of his lover’s eyes. After he found the flattest spot on the rock, the kid settled in directly behind him with his long legs on either side of his boyfriend’s, giving him perfect access to pertinent bits he intended to start with.

Casey seemed to relax his shoulders, and after a second or two, he stretched his legs out to touch along Chuck’s. “Comfy back there, goddess?” he asked.

“Comf – sure.” Chuck sat taller and began dragging the bar of soap over Casey’s wet skin, feeling thick ropes of back muscles bunch under his touch. “Is this ... okay?”

“Nah, it sucks.” Casey lowered his head, rubbed his neck, and there was a different tone when he spoke next. “Keep going, kid. That’s it.”

Chuck smiled, even if it was to the back of Casey’s head, and just kept kneading and soaping up the broad expanse of flesh. “I ... really like your body. How many cows can you lift at once, again? Did you ever tell me? Hey, the ... injury on your shoulder?”

“You mean gunshot wound.”

“Okay, that. I know you don’t have a good view back here, so I thought I would mention that the doctor who sewed it up did a pretty good job, actually. I can barely see it.”

“Yeah, after he fainted he seemed to show a little promise.”

“Thanks,” Chuck said, “but the doctor noted up front that he had an aversion to blood.”

“Maybe he should think of another occupation?”

“What do you suggest?” Chuck asked, being gentle and firm, stroking the soap over the wide plain of his shoulders. An interesting trail of suds caught his eye, little bubbles sliding down the dip of his lower back, then over the swell at the top of his buttocks.

“Did you hear me,” Casey was asking.

“Um, I would make a terrible teacher.”

“Teacher? Where the hell did you get that?”

“I – uh ... never mind.” God, did he really forget what he was going to say?

“I said ranch hand.” Casey leaned back into him, adjusting his seat. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in ... leather boots .... find out what you can do with a piece of rope.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Seriously? I’d be a terrible wrangler. Ropes chafe, did you know that? And have you ever seen an angry bull? I’d never be able to lasso one of those things.”

Casey slanted a look over his shoulder at him.

“What?” Why did he get the ‘you can be a dumbass look’ again?

“Not quitting are you, kid?” Casey wriggled a shoulder and tipped his head to the side, which Chuck took as an indication he wanted to feel his hands there.

He could do that. Refocusing his eyes away from bubble patterns ...sliding ... sliding, Chuck began to rub the bar of soap along the curve of his neck, using his other hand to massage a few kinks out of his shoulder. “Like that, do you?”

“Not bad, pancake. You can do this anytime.”

“I plan to ... a lot.” For the next fifty years or so, if you’ll let me.

God, do not say that out loud.

With their wet bodies glued together front to back, Chuck heard Casey breathe heavily, pictured him closing his eyes. Round and round in circles, the kid followed the soap with his fingers, digging into muscle, sweeping in firm strokes.

His boyfriend let out a quiet moan. That was good, right?

“I’ll ... rinse your back now,” Chuck said as a warning that his lover was about to feel cold water on his skin. Not hearing any protest, Chuck leaned over and cupped handfuls, trickling over the slope of his shoulders, down his spine. “Not too chilly, I hope.”

“Just ... keep going,” the kid heard. “Do the front next.”

Chuck’s brows rose. Convenient that Casey’s chest was already wet and Chuck was holding a bar of soap. Engraved invitation not required.

He’d think about the rest later.

“Can you ... lean back on me a little?” the kid asked, grinning like a loon and thankful Casey couldn’t see it. “I, uh, need to be able to reach ... well, everything.”

“So you want me to push you in the water and drowned you anyway?”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m stronger than you think.” Wanting to show him, Chuck slid an arm around Casey’s middle and gave him a little pull. “Come on, John. Lean back ... here. You know, this is good. Maybe I can ... take care of you for once.”

A laugh rippled along his back, but he did shift, and a wall of hard mass pressed against Chuck’s chest. “You’ll have to do a lot more than that, cupcake.”

“There. See. You have your own reclining chair. And besides, they say I have magical hands.” To prove his point, the kid dipped the soap into the creek and reached around his lover’s shoulders, began dragging the bar between his pecs. Around them. “How is that?”

“They, eh?” Casey shifted his shoulders and closed his eyes. “Been doing this for a lot of men?”

“This is only my second time actually,” Chuck answered, and he ran his thumbs over his pecs in small circles.

Casey’s jaw noticeably tightened. “Second?”

“Well, um, you were there both times, right?”

The little bit of strangeness was gone. “Yeah, that time ....”

Chuck smiled and slid the bar down the center of his boyfriend’s chest, suds gathering on the springy curls in the small hollow in the center. “I really didn’t peg you for the jealous type.”

“Not jealous.” Casey laid his forearms on Chuck’s thighs, and he added in a lighter tone, “I’ll be the one doing the pegging from here on out. You just worry about your job back there ... and up here ....”

“You’re not going to fall asleep, are you?” Chuck asked, lips touching his hair. Wasn’t it his job to prevent that from happening? Guessing it was, Chuck skimmed the soap back and forth over his middle, and though his limbs were chilled from the swim, his body was still blissfully warm. “Is this okay?”

“I’ll let you know ....”

“Hah.” Chuck moved the soap down, gliding over his belly. Everything about him was hard. Big bones, long muscles that surged even with the slightest movement, the inward curve of belly and thighs ... other places. “Only ... about half done.”

“If you think that’s half done,” Casey observed, pausing to stroke Chuck’s legs with both hands, “we need to start at the beginning. Go over everything I taught you.”

“We’re not talking about hunting turkey, are we?” Smiling, Chuck buried his face in his neck, breathing in the scent of soap, the creek water, his pleasant tang of masculinity. Temptation made his hands move lower, while his lips dropped a kiss there. And there, on the muscle that stretched from his neck to his right shoulder.

“Finish your job, kid.” Even with his eyes closed, Casey’s mouth curved into just a hint of a smile. He stretched his back, a languorous move that pulled Chuck’s eyes along every inch of wet flesh. “There’s more.”

Oh, God was there, but the kid was trying not to focus on that. Instead, he brought his palms slowly across his chest, feeling the curly hair between his fingers, down his ribcage to his thighs. From Casey’s knees downward, his legs were already dangling in the water, so the kid brought his attention to everything above the place where swirling water moved around his calves.

There was enough body language reinforcement to keep going, so Chuck slathered soap over his thighs, belly, getting as much bare, wet skin under his hands as possible. He avoided looking at the part of him that was sorely neglected, though he could see Casey was more than ready to get on with the business at hand.

That hesitancy lasted about a minute. He was ready to touch him.

“Huh. I should get paid extra for this,” Chuck said, and he reached down Casey’s stomach, lower abdomen, dragging the bar of soap in a line. “There’s more dirt here than one would think.”

“You should ... do your job, then.” Casey’s voice lowered. “Maybe ... get it wet.”

Chuck breathed out, wrapping his other hand around his middle from behind, and slowly drew the bar of soap along him. Reaching the tip, the kid steered his hand to the underside, unhurried, tracing his length from crown to balls.

“Jesus ...” Casey muttered, stretching out his legs.

Being pressed to his wide back, Chuck felt the rumble, watched as his cock strained to rub against his hand. At the touch, the kid repressed a shiver, struggling between desire and embarrassment that his dick responded just by watching him, prodding into Casey’s lower back.

Chuck took another deep breath and brought the cake of soap up and down, stopping at the lowest point to caress his balls. As he did, Casey latched his fingers into the kid’s legs, his body tightening. “Fuck ... that’s it....”

“Still ... okay?” Chuck asked, knowing he was an idiot because he was fairly certain it was. “You said ... you wanted to, er, get clean?”

Hell, he felt himself blushing again. Never had he been this forward, but having Casey sprawled out before him like a giant picnic to a starving man made his own body clench against his, wanting to hold nothing back.

The kid did it again, over the perfect arch, eliciting a low grunt. The water was so clear he could see every inch of Casey’s legs, even when he curled his toes. Wholly content, Casey laid his head back on Chuck’s shoulder, turning his face towards him. Chuck could smell the clean water on his chin, and he leaned down to graze his lips on his neck.

“Kid?”

“Hm?” Chuck stopped mid stroke and lifted a brow at him. “I thought you ... liked it?”

“If you keep doing that,” Casey said, his deep voice gravelly, “this is going to be an awfully short night.”

“What? Oh!” Chuck almost dropped the bar of soap by jerking his hand away. “Sorry ... it, um, slipped?”

Casey chuckled. “Christ, you are priceless, muffin. Just priceless.”

“I could do your face ... and hair,” the kid said, his eyes taking a leisurely stroll down his body. “After that, I think you should have my seal of approval.”

“You do realize where that bar of soap has been?”

“You do realize it’s a bar of soap we are talking about?”

“Wet it.”

“But I thought -? Oh, soap. Wow. You are ... okay, then.” Chuck had to jostle him in order to reach over the side of the rock, dipping his hand in the water. “See what I’m doing? I’m swishing the soap .... Getting it clean .... Boy. I’m learning a lot about you, just by doing this.”

“Likewise, kid.” Casey seemed content to settle in again, pressed up against the kid’s bare chest. “Now you can get the rest.”

As Chuck rubbed the bar of soap through Casey’s hair, it formed wet funny-looking spikes here and there. Smiling, he ran his hand through it, spreading his fingers wide to feel the tickle of his short locks between them. “Hm. I like this. Have you ever thought of growing out your hair?”

“Don’t you have enough for both of us?”

“Point,” Chuck said, scrubbing, letting his fingertips dig lightly into his scalp. “Still doing okay?”

Casey made a noise in his throat and put a little more weight on him.

Translating the sound as affirmative, Chuck moved his fingers in little circles, kneading, massaging, and occasionally smoothing over muscles on his back. He worked in silence for a few minutes, until he could sense Casey was both more relaxed and more aroused than before. One of those emotions was quite obvious from this vantage point.

“Um, you might want to close your eyes,” the kid said. He hated to break his lover’s look of bliss, not to mention the press of his body along his, but truthfully, his ass was getting a bit sore from being perched on the rock. “Last thing is the face. Are you ready?”

“Mm.”

“You’ve got a whole language going on there with those noises. Did you know that?”

Casey grunted again and relaxed an arm around the kid’s leg.

“See? I distinctly heard ‘shut up and do it’.”

“Funny. You seem to understand,” Casey said, “yet you’re not doing it.”

“Hold still. Tell me if I get any in your eyes.” Wary, Chuck started by swishing the soap delicately over his cheeks, along the angle of his jaw. The scrubbing motion was much lighter than before, and a minute later, he took a moment to enjoy his handiwork. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired looking at that angular, sharp as a blade jaw or eyes that would look at him with the color of the sky in the summer.

Bending one of his knees, Casey laid a hand on his abdomen, drawing attention to a place Chuck hoped to be touching very soon. “You done?” he asked.

“Yep.” Chuck jerked his head up and held out the bar of soap. “You have been officially serviced and cleared for duty.”

Casey turned his head, tilted an eyebrow at him, his mien shifting abruptly from quiet contentment to ... trouble. “Good to hear. Then in we go, kid.”

“We? I’m not the one who needs a good rinse –”

A millisecond later, Chuck made a big splash as he hit the water.

Already in the creek, his boyfriend held on and gave him one good dunk before pulling him up. Chuck popped up out of the water, spluttering, wiping his eyes. “Why did you do that!”

“You were starting to get a little ripe, muffin.” Giving him a sly look, Casey dipped his hand deep into the water and squeezed his buttock. “Just taking care of you.”

Chuck returned the favor by splashing him liberally as he jerked away. Casey held out his hands like a shield and laughed. And the unwritten rules, Chuck felt, for laughing at his wet dog look was to get splashed again. He obliged the rules, getting his lover with a good shot of water to the face.

“Little shit.” Casey’s retaliation was to jump at him and wrap his tree trunk-like arms around Chuck’s chest, pinning his arms to his sides – and dunk him again.

The kid came up blinking and laughing. “Hey! No fair!”

“This is fair,” Casey said, tightening his hold. Since he had his arms on top Chuck’s, it took no effort to bring him against his chest, brushing his lips on the sleek wet skin of his neck, making Chuck’s fingers convulse into his hips. “Behave, kid,” he rumbled against his flesh, “or I will bite you.”

For a second or two, Chuck squirmed between his arms, trying to pull one of his free, but he let himself be subdued. Why would he want to get away from this? He relaxed and didn’t move, simply letting himself float in the safe haven between Casey’s arms, the stream’s current of moving water surrounding them.

“You win, okay?” Chuck was still a bit breathless from being dunked, so he rested his head on Casey’s shoulder. “Question for you,” he murmured, wiggling his hands in hopes Casey would free him. “Is it my turn to get washed now?”

Getting the message, Casey loosening his hold enough to steer him towards the rock, running his hand down the kid’s back. “No, you’re wrong there,” he said, lips against his wet hair, his sexy voice making the kid’s belly go tight. “I like to think of this part as my turn.”

-x- End Chapter Sixteen Sins Fell Angels-x-


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Seventeen

-x-

Water swirled around his stomach like the butterflies already at home there. Trying to ignore how chilly it was, Chuck lifted his arms and plodded cautiously over the underwater rocks, being gently herded by a firm hand in the middle of his back.

“I learned something new about you, big guy.” Since his boyfriend was behind him, Chuck had to turn his head so that Casey could see his grin. “I never thought of you as the ‘play nice and take turns’ type.”

“Considering what I’m about to do,” and his hand skimmed down Chuck’s spine, “nice isn’t the word that comes to mind.”

“More promises, hm?” Chuck blushed at his own forwardness, but heck, why not? He had a boyfriend now, and by all indications, he’d be having sex with him. A lot. “Well, do your worst.”

“Keep that up, cupcake,” Casey said, taking his arm to help Chuck climb up on the rock, “and this bath will be nothing more than a lick and a promise before I toss your pretty little ass up on the bank.”

“Pretty, huh?” Chuck noticed that said body part was conveniently right there in Casey’s face as he scrambled over the top of the rock. Which meant the kid had to wiggle it to give him a demonstration. “So you like this?” Chuck grinned more broadly.

Casey answered it with a hearty slap to Chuck’s butt. It didn’t hurt at all, but Chuck yelped agreeably and swatted at his fingers.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Get it out of my face, then,” Casey said. He gave a lewd grin up at him and dragged a hand over the slippery curve of an ass cheek. “Or I’ll bite that, too. And it’s still damn skinny.”

Chuck, feeling brazen, did it again. Somehow it seemed funny until long fingers groped and explored the crease, making Chuck jolt at the pressure of a knuckle in a very sensitive place. “Ah!” The kid batted at him again. “You don’t have permission yet, mister.”

“Permission. Heh. Lucky it was just my hand,” Casey said, clamping down. “Move over and pass the soap – unless you dropped it?”

“Ye of little faith.” Chuck flashed a smirk and the bar of soap.

Casey didn’t bother to congratulate him as he held his hand out. “Save the cockiness for later, kid. Turn around.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting behind you. Is that okay?”

Chuck angled his head to look at him. “Sure,” he said. “I even saved a spot for you.” It didn’t stop him from having to suck in a breath at the feel of a pair of long legs suddenly stretched out along his. Staying perfectly still, he waited for Casey to scoot in until Chuck was sitting directly in front of him, wedged into a place Chuck thought was pretty comfortable.

“You look tense,” he heard from behind.

“I’m good.” Chuck placed a tentative hand on Casey’s knee. “Mind if I ... lean back?”

“That’s kind of the point,” Casey told him. He helped by wrapping an arm around Chuck’s middle and tugging him against the smooth muscles of his chest. “Better?”

Chuck closed his eyes and let a little more of his weight press into him. “I can suffer through it, I guess.”

Not fooled, Casey chuckled softly. The kid felt his back joggle a bit as Casey leaned over to dip the soap in the water. He began washing him, not down as Chuck expected, but along his shoulder, digging his fingers into lean muscles. His hand followed in a swishing motion, teasing the line of bones and flesh.

“Oh ... hell - oh.” Chuck shivered again. It had nothing to do with the cool air hitting his wet skin. “I forgot how good you are at this – mgph –”

“Does that still hurt?” Casey stopped there at his ribcage. “Sore, brown eyes?”

“Uh, no.” Chuck looked embarrassed. “Ticklish.”

“Weak spot, huh?” Giving him one playful poke, Casey began dragging the bar of soap around to the front, back and forth over his chest. “I was right. You do heal up nicely, muffin.”

“And you were right about being a half-way decent pillow.” Chuck relaxed, wriggling his shoulders between Casey’s pecs. “It’s rather comfortable – almost. Except for ... well.”

“What?”

“Not to complain ... but ... there is something rather hard rubbing against my back.”

“If it bothers you, I can find somewhere else to put it.”

“Pretty bold for a man serving as a davenport, don’t you think?”

“Not as bold as the one about to get dumped in the creek,” Casey muttered. The tension of the arm around his middle increased, the pressure as similar to a restraint as an embrace. “Learn to swim in the past half hour?”

Chuck smiled, trying to worm out of his hold, though he knew Casey wouldn’t toss him in. “Not fair. It was the dog paddle.”

“Yeah?” Casey tightened his forearm a bit more. Fingers roamed to a few sensitive, ticklish places. “How appropriate.”

“Ah. You bastard!” Chuck laughed and began to struggle against the ticklish control Casey had over him. “Not – not there!”

“Here, too?” Casey soothed, his hand drawing lower.

“You win – please!”

“What? You’re giving up already?”

“Am I going to get out of this?” Chuck asked, panting.

“Honestly, kid, not a chance in hell.”

“Then I guess I’m giving up.”

“No other ideas, tough stuff?” Casey’s mouth brushed his ear, and the strength Chuck could feel in the arm bent around him eased up a little. “You don’t know how to get yourself free? Throw me in?”

“Other things I could do,” Chuck mumbled, “to get you to let go.”

Casey was about to come back with a smart-ass comment, but when Chuck stretched his fingers out on Casey’s bare thigh and turned his head to press his lips against his boyfriend’s, whatever he was going to say was lost in a breath.

Casey’s lips parted, and now that they’re kissing, Chuck didn’t have to beg. He shifted his hips restlessly – touch me. Well, Casey picked up on the body language. He moved his hand there, softly dragging his sudsy palm up and down, showing his attention to detail pretty much covered everything.

The slippery fingers along his cock made Chuck open his mouth in a gasp, allowing Casey to slide right in. Just a slight push or two of his tongue against Chuck’s, and there, it was enough to let the kid know he’d like him to take a taste as well.

Chuck did it, even if it was unsure, gently pushing his tongue in as he fit their mouths together. His lips became softer and more yielding under the demanding press, and despite the fact he had initiated the kiss, there was no denying he was now a shy lover surrendering to things that exceeded what he gave.

Casey let out a little growl and began stroking him again. Suddenly, the kid felt himself lifting up into his hand without even thinking or realizing he had done it. God, how could he not? His lover tasted like the cool water of the creek, clean and wet over the salty warmth of his mouth. A little groan escaped from the kid, and Casey smiled against his mouth, ran his knuckle along the underside.

“Like that?” he asked softly, his hand slowing.

“Y-yes.”

“Then take some for yourself,” Casey suggested. “Give me your hand.”

The larger man didn’t wait. He took Chuck’s hand and guided it over his soapy stomach. As he held tight to the kid’s fingers, Chuck felt both of their hands trail through his pubic hair before curling around his cock. Holding tight, Casey’s thumb traced the underside, up and down, until Chuck made a soft sound in his throat.

“Good?” Casey asked against his hair.

“Oh ... this is ....” It’s instinctual for one. With Chuck’s hand trapped under his, Casey squeezed down lightly enough for Chuck to do the same, and then guided his hand upward. Back down.

“About time you should be getting dirty, kid, don’t you think?” On the next trip along his length, Casey nudged Chuck’s thumb over the slit, sweeping it over the tiny indent. “This’ll be a start, at least.”

“That’s ....” Chuck closed his eyes, responding to the teasing touch on the broad crown. “Oh.”

“Wet. Good.” Casey steered Chuck’s thumb in a loop, smearing the wetness. There was a good chance the slickness was not entirely soap, and Casey brought the kid’s thumb up to his mouth to suck it off anyway. “You still taste too pure. Like a damn virgin.”

“You should know something, then, stranger,” Chuck said, his mouth forming a loose smile. “I’m not.”

Casey lowered his lips to Chuck’s shoulder, lightly biting him there until the kid let out an exhale. “I like the way you taste. Maybe I don’t want to spoil it.”

“And you’re one hundred percent certain I like it that way?” Chuck tried to worm his hand out from under Casey’s, but the larger man held on. It was as if the kid needed a reminder of what his hand should be doing, so he clenched lightly and began the slow strokes again.

“Easy, kid. We’ll do it my way.” Slow circles around the crown. “Still okay?”

“God, yes, but I –”

Casey shut him up with his mouth on his, kissing again, forcing a few long, slow strokes. The kind Chuck figured that Casey would like to be giving if he had Chuck’s back in the grass instead of leaning into Casey’s chest. Imagining it, Chuck arched his hips into the strokes, drew back –

Oh no. Not like this.

“John, wait,” Chuck rasped, tipping his head back. “If we don’t ... I mean, you should finish up with the soap. Really fast would be preferable.”

Casey gave him a devious smile. “Now you’re thinking my way,” he said, but he reached around and gave him one more drag anyway. “Close your eyes.”

When he obeyed, Chuck heard the sound of Casey swishing the soap in the water. Chuck started to say it wasn’t necessary, but he quickly snapped his mouth shut when Casey began washing his face and neck for him. He might’ve complained about not getting a warning - if it didn’t feel so good to be taken care of like that.

Casey was now working like a man with a purpose, not in the languid, bubbles-in-molasses way of a few minutes ago. The curly, wild hair, stuck in wet tendrils on the kid’s head and nape got the treatment next; soaping, rubbing, until Chuck was sure he was getting a glimpse of heaven.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, kid,” Casey murmured in one ear.

“No worries. Just ... keep rubbing ... like that.”

Casey grunted huskily. “When I said give a little head, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Asshole.”

“Next time, if you pay attention, maybe I can teach you -”

“God, stop,” Chuck said, lifting a hand. “Incorrigible asshole is what I meant.”

Casey chuckled. “Get it right next time.” He dug his fingers in, giving a few final scrubs through his curls. “You’re done.”

Chuck opened his eyes once more to see their feet dangling off the rock. One of his hands found Casey’s wrist, and the kid lifted it to bite down lightly on Casey’s forefinger. “I will never doubt your skills,” Chuck said. “Any of them.”

“Save it for later.” Casey wrapped an arm around Chuck’s middle, held on, and kissed the tender side of his neck. “Time to get in.”

Chuck twisted around, his eyes catching the last rays of sun sparkling on the water before landing on Casey’s staunch face. “Oh, you mean this second?”

“Yep. In.”

“Okay, but I don’t need help.” Chuck tried to stop him with an elbow. “What are you doing? For the tenth time, I can swim, you know.”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I noticed.” The strong hand on his hip clenched, pulled. “C’mere, puppy. Under you go.”

“Hey, wait –” Chuck began, but the kid found himself yanked off the rock and into the water before he could tell him what a dick he was for that. Chuck came up, sputtering, but Casey swept Chuck’s legs out from under him, taking them both under the eddying pool.

Okay, this was his boyfriend’s idea of a good time. God, that man was scary.

Chuck swung out blindly under the water and found a meaty bicep to grab onto. It didn’t matter, however, because Casey dragged him up. His arm wrapped around Chuck’s waist from behind, holding the kid against him, broad chest to lean back.

“Dunk me, save me,” Chuck grumbled, angling his head around to ensure Casey saw the petulant look. “Make up your mind, will you?”

Casey’s lips were close to his ear. And his cock was a steel rod pressing against the kid’s ass. It was hard to think. “One thing I noticed about you, cupcake,” Casey said.

“Wh-what?”

“You like to get my attention, kid. You just don’t know what to do with it when you get it.”

“Let go, okay?” Chuck tried to shift, but Casey happened to have arms like vises. “All right, if that’s the way you’re going to be, fine. What ... what do you want to do now?”

“Well, first, this,” Casey answered.

“Hm? Because I – whoa.”

Anything else Chuck had to say was lost under the water.

When he was pulled up, spluttering at the indignity, Casey relaxed the hold around his waist and ran a hand over the kid’s head, ungluing curls. “There. No more soap. Clean as a shiny penny.”

Chuck glared and purposely shook his head wildly, making Casey bring up a hand to protect his face from flying drops. “Why do you insist on doing that?”

“I thought you needed some fun.”

Chuck plastered on a fake smile. “See. Doesn’t this smile say that the vision of my life crossing in front of my eyes was fun?”

“Wimp,” Casey said, chuckling at him. “Hold onto my neck, then.” Without waiting, he turned the kid gently in the water until they faced each other, chest to chest. “Better?”

Chuck wrapped his arms around Casey’s neck and drew him close, feeling the larger man’s hands move lower on his waist. “This is much nicer, by the way. Just saying, in case you’re trying to navigate the murky waters of what pleases your boyfriend.”

Casey slanted his head to the side, dropped a kiss on his temple. “Are you hanging onto the rock?”

“Um, only with my foot.”

“And you think that’ll stop me, eh?”

“Stop ... you?” Chuck moved, his bare feet stepping on Casey’s as he tried to find purchase. “What do you mean?”

It figured the big brute would not answer. For some reason, Casey went under, and Chuck felt a hold slide down his thighs. Then two arms as unyielding as logs wrapped around his knees. Pressure around his legs made it difficult for Chuck to keep his feet planted.

Uh-oh.

“Is there a reason you’re – oh.” Everything in the kid went tight, alert. “Are you insane?! What are you –!”

Apparently, yes. He was insane.

Casey came back up, water running off his shoulders and down his spine. It helped that Chuck had a fine view of it, now that he was sprawled over Casey’s broad back. Not to mention getting an eyeful of pale ass wavering under the water, but Chuck was too busy flailing to enjoy it.

“Hey! Put me down, you giant jerk!”

“Let’s go, twerp,” Casey said, and he began plodding towards the shore, his squirmy prize safely tossed over his shoulder. “Time to get dirty, eh?”

Chuck didn’t need the reminder that Casey was a strong son of a bitch, but this was just crazy. How in the hell did he scoop up someone of his size – hey, the kid like to think he was no tiny flower– and fling him over his back like he was an unruly child being dragged home.

“I said down, dammit!” Chuck squirmed a little more, but even with slippery skin in his favor, he found out that fighting him was a hopeless endeavor. “I – I could’ve drowned! Did you think of that?”

Well. Sort of. The water was already to Casey’s middle and receding quickly, each stride taking them closer to shore. “Only if I do it, muffin,” Casey said, “and I don’t plan on it anytime soon.”

“Wow. Comforting,” Chuck replied. “But here’s something for you. It would’ve been nice if you had warned me about your - oh I don’t know, what’s the word - Cro-Magnon tendencies before this!”

“Let me get this straight,” Casey said, and one hand went up the back of the kid’s thigh until it snatched a handful of a skinny ass cheek. “By now, I would have to warn you about my tendencies? And you’re the genius here?”

“Do you really think I can drown in three feet of water?”

“Still talking about you, aren’t we?”

“Well ... I – gah.”

Chuck had a retort ready, but he was too preoccupied with trying to hang onto Casey’s back to argue at the same time. Hanging on wasn’t working so well. His fingers slid down wet flesh, not stopping until the kid discovered he was now clinging onto a part of Casey he had wanted to get his hands on for a while. Just not like this.

“Careful back there, cupcake. Don’t want to give me the impression you’re too eager, do you?”

“You are so frustrating!” Chuck wasted a scowl on Casey’s back, trying not to study the water dripping and running in interesting trails over his butt. “Ah – watch where you’re going!”

“You just watch what’s going on back there, princess.” Casey took hold of one cheek, a few fingers tracing Chuck’s cleft. “I’ll handle this.”

“Shit!” Chuck attempted to twist around - to do what, he had no idea. “Watch the merchandise back there!”

“Oh, I’m watching it, brown eyes.”

“You know – whoa, it’s a little steep here, don’t you think? And this – this would be a very bad time for Morgan to come out to the farm. Check on me ... maybe find out if I’ve returned safely?”

“Nothing but safe hands here, kid.”

“Ow! No pinching!” Chuck swung his head to the side, grimacing at his predicament. But luckily – if you could call it that - his unique vantage point of Casey’s ass and the ground told him that that his boyfriend had begun to saunter up the grassy bank and would probably dump him soon. “You can’t just pick me up whenever you damn well please, okay?”

“Sure, I’m listening, princess.”

Chuck squinted down to the superbly rounded place where his hand had acquired a grip. “Okay, then hear this.”

“Ouch! Fuck.” Casey jerked at the incursion and let out a breath of a laugh. Mission accomplished, though, because he did set Chuck on his feet before he could pinch him again. “Put your hand there one more time, and you may not get it back.”

“Hah.” Chuck straightened and made a face at him.

Casey took one look at that tongue and shrugged. “I’ll show you what to do with that,” he said, and then sank his lips onto his. The kiss was immediately familiar and physical, pushing his tongue back to halt that bout of sassiness. As he delved in, Casey’s hands roamed downward, finding the top of his buttocks. The touching was gentler now, the press of lips waning to tender stops and starts. If Chuck had been miffed a minute ago, now he only knew he wanted him. Quite badly.

When Casey pulled back, a little breathless, he moved his hands to Chuck’s middle, his thumbs making absent circles over dripping wet skin. “Stand still. You’re shaking.”

He was? That was news to the kid. Casey put a hand on the side of Chuck’s neck, his fingers casually moving up to push back wet waves of hair, stuck together inelegantly everywhere. “You’re pretty,” he said.

“Um, pretty what?” Chuck asked, eyes widening.

Casey didn’t hesitate to run his hand over goose pimples that seemed to have sprung up everywhere. “Pretty damned pretty to look at. For once, I’ve been lucky.”

Chuck said nothing. What could he say?

Casey didn’t laugh, either. Just kept unsticking a few globs of wet hair until he gave up. “Don’t move.”

“I ... I wasn’t planning on it.” The last thing Chuck needed was to appear vulnerable. He forced himself to stand there.

Casey walked over to the pack he had set next to the blanket and took out a cloth. Chuck watched him, wondering if he should be worried. Once, he had blindfolded him. It made the kid afraid and incredibly hard at the same time. Letting Casey touch him in any way he desired.

“What ... what is that?” Chuck asked, proud of himself for not backing up a step.

Casey just grunted and held up the cloth. “Might want to shut your eyes.”

Those weren’t the words of comfort Chuck had been looking for. Trust, trust him, he repeated in his head, and closed his eyes.

Chuck drew in a breath at his touch, mesmerized by the soft rubbing of the towel on his neck, his face, up to his hair. Casey let the cloth momentarily blind him while he scrubbed at the messy curls, unplastering it from his head. Then his chest, coming around to the back to briskly dry him, over his ass but not before copping a feel of his right butt cheek.

“Is that part of the deal?” Chuck grumbled, bucking his hips forward. “You dry it, you own it?”

“My towel, my ass, my rules.” Down the legs he went, taking great care to dry off his thighs, calves, before his hands slid up a bit. “And my ... yeah. That, too.”

Not that his lower extremity needed a good toweling, but Casey wasn’t one to miss a detail, especially one that mortified the kid like this one. His lover was teasing, stopping to give a gradual drag up and down his length. And oh, hell, as Casey touched him, Chuck felt his response to Casey’s hands along every inch of his physique.

Honestly, why did his body have to give away everything?

Chuck kept his eyes squeezed shut and groaned at the feel of it, the friction making his cock spring forward. The cold water meant nothing anymore. “Um, I’m dry now, thank you,” he blurted.

“Clean, too.” Finishing up with both legs, Casey withdrew his hands. “That’ll do for now, kid. You just stand there until I get dried off,” and he added in a throatier voice, “Gives me something to look at.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Chuck said, trying not to look down. He had to force himself not to do something idiotic like cross his wrists in front of him to hide his erect cock. But his humiliation didn’t end there, because what exactly was Casey looking at? A lanky kid, still a bit bruised and wild-haired. Not so much to see, really.

Maybe Casey thought differently. He didn’t make a move for the kid yet, seeming to enjoy a second to let his eyes linger over him as he brushed the towel across his own chest, down those stupid perfect legs of his and up again. “See anything you might like?”

Chuck blinked stupidly, finding he couldn’t look away from those bright blue eyes. “What? Uh, no.”

Smiling, Casey tossed the towel on top of the pack. “Come here.” His gaze shifted briefly to the spot in front of him. “Look at you, long legs. You’ve got enough modesty for both of us.”

“Someone has to.” When Chuck looked away shyly, Casey laughed, and the sound of it put a half grin on his face. “Fine. Tease me. I can’t help it.”

“Over here, kid.”

Chuck looked at Casey, standing tall and naked, then down to the blanket on the grass. It wasn’t far – heck, they were only a few steps apart - so either Casey liked to make him uncomfortable, or it was a weird sign of validation, maybe control, that the kid would never understand. You come to me.

Pushing away that thought, Chuck strolled up to him, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest. “Okay, I think my job is over. See? Clean.”

Casey closed his hands over one of the kid’s biceps and cupped his face for a light brush of lips, just a taste that left Chuck hungering for more of him. “Yeah, the city boy’s clean. Let’s take care of that, eh?”

“I think that ... was your job?”

“You think I’d forget?” Casey asked. He showed him that he remembered by slipping his hands around to the kid’s ass cheeks, using the grip to bring him in groin to groin. His fingers kneaded, squeezed. “God, you have a fine, tight ass. Best I’ve ever had.”

Chuck frowned. “I’d rather not think of anyone you’re comparing me to at the moment.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” Casey kissed him again, deliberately hard, cutting off any other thoughts along those lines. His hands came up to clamp onto Chuck’s hips, and more pressure steered him back a few feet until his heel landed on the nubby wool of the bedroll.

“What ... are you doing?” Chuck asked when he could finally speak.

“Get on the blanket.” Casey’s lips whispered along the side of his neck, then he moved up to murmur in his ear, “Want to see if I can get you to make those little whimper sounds again. I liked it ....”

Chuck wet his lips. “I – didn’t – oh.” Holy hell. The suggestion alone made him shift his hips automatically into his boyfriend, dicks brushing along their lengths. It was one thing he had almost forgotten about Casey. The man had no problem telling his young lover what he wanted.

“Sit,” Casey said.

“Oh, you mean here?” Chuck looked around. Obviously, he had serious brain-lock if he hadn’t noticed before, but he could always blame the hard on for that. “Outside, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you have a problem with this.”

“N-no, not a problem.”

Casey grinned, obviously pleased the kid seemed to be coming out of his shell. “Thought you’d like it. The creek. The sunset. Kind of girly, eh?”

“I’m ... not sure I’m flattered by that,” Chuck remarked dryly. He did stop, however, to listen to water trickling over rocks. “But you do have a point. I’d almost say you’re a romantic.”

Hearing that, Casey made an unbecoming noise with his tongue and slapped his fingers over Chuck’s left ass cheek. “Get down there before I really show you some romance.”

Casey put a hand on Chuck’s chest and pressed until he was flat on the blanket, following him down all the way. When he had him sprawled out, he kissed him again, a mixture of possessiveness and heat. Casey didn’t stop until his elbows and knees were on either side of Chuck, and he was trapped under the biggest man he had ever met, kissing him open-mouthed and hungry. The kid’s heart pounded at the sense of Casey immediately surrounding him; his clean scent, the warmth of his skin.

After Casey broke the kiss, Chuck slowly opened his eyes. His vision was filled with Casey, tracing his bottom lip as he studied him. “You taste really good, cupcake,” he said, his voice a bit scratchy. “Seems to me, if I remember right, all of you reminds me of strawberry pie ... straight out of the oven.” He began kissing Chuck’s neck, soft lips trailing to his shoulder. “Yeah ... that good.”

Chuck swallowed against the touch on his throat, and felt a smile. “Strawberry p-pie is hard to compete with, you know?” He clasped his hands on Casey’s forearms, gasping when his lover’s mouth began trailing over his pec. “You might want to ... well, maybe ....”

“Find out if it’s true?” Casey’s tongue dragged over his hard nipple, looped.

“Mm ... For the record, I would not object to a little research.”

“Good. Because I was planning on it, anyway.” His rough stubble rubbed against the smooth flesh of the kid’s ribcage, the hollow of his chest, proving that Casey took his research very seriously. He sucked and licked, splaying his hands on the kid’s thighs to hold him down, over his abdomen, his hip bones. “So far, kid, you taste like clean water ....”

“Oh ... there’s ....” More. Chuck strained upward at the touch of a tongue over his lower belly. “You ... you should keep going.”

“Yeah, I like this place, though.” Casey breathed it against his skin, licking his upper thigh, dragging inward, circling back. “Getting sweeter, isn’t it, kid?”

Chuck tipped his chin back and let out a breath. Okay, one more thing he had forgotten. Casey had an impulse towards delicious torture.

At the moment, emphasis on torture.

“It ... can get better,” Chuck offered weakly. He discovered that pushing his hips up let him drag his dick along Casey’s neck or his cheek. He’d take any friction if he couldn’t have his mouth yet. “Oh, right there.”

Casey grunted and moved his head over to his hip, bit lightly. “Nu-uh.” His fingers dug into Chuck’s hips to hold him down on the blanket, emphatically putting a halt to any rubbing Chuck had in mind. “Kid, you keep doing that, and what I have planned for you won’t be nearly as fun.”

“So ... in this scenario, you’re being helpful?”

“Heh.” Casey bit him again, now on the upper thigh.

“Ow!” It didn’t hurt, but still. “Casey -”

“Shut it, tiger. Stay like that.” Casey’s voice got throaty. “My turn.” He kissed, sucked, not near the very erect cock, but anywhere else he could find bare skin, tingling under his warm lips. “Yeah ... all mine.”

“Oh God.” Chuck’s nostrils flared as a little tremor tightened his limbs. But damn him, he couldn’t move, not with Casey holding him down with two enormous hands on his hips.

Casey took forever, doing exactly what he said he would do; serious exploration of the kid’s nearly vibrating body. He seemed to take pleasure in Chuck’s frustrated low whines - especially the one time he tried to take Casey’s head and steer him until he got batted away.

“John -” Chuck began, attempting to rise as Casey dropped kisses over his lower belly, “are you trying to kill me?”

At the next kiss, Casey tilted his head and brushed his lips over Chuck’s length. “Wanna ... put your cock in my mouth?”

God, yes. Just hearing it made his belly clench. Chuck wet his throat, his hands convulsing on the blanket with only the suggestion of it. He remembered the first time, standing against a fence, wanting to melt into the ground. Casey was good at it, though Chuck did not want to consider how he had so much practice at sucking dick.

He waited for the feel of warm lips, taking him.

There was only the sound of his breath, his heart playing drumsticks.

After ten seconds or so, Chuck’s head snapped up. “Didn’t you just ask me -”

“Got to hear you say it, kid.” Casey suppressed a smile, kissed his thigh. “There?”

“Oh, God.” Chuck put a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. “You really need to hear it?”

“Yep.” Casey’s breath ghosted over him.

“Casey, please.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Casey sank down on him, taking him in one long drag. And again, already getting a rhythm.

Please? That’s all it took?

Chuck sucked in a breath. “Oh shit oh shit ....”

Casey’s first touch of lips on his cock caused a shudder to run through him. As he came down, Chuck’s hips arched up automatically, thrusting against Casey’s tongue. He still didn’t understand this type of intimacy enough to know if his reaction was normal. He only knew how good it felt to try and get more of his warmth around him.

Impossible to do when the bastard suddenly pulled back.

“None of that, kid.” Casey, knees planted on either side of Chuck’s calves, pressed him down with one hand clamped to his hip. “Not ready to have you come yet.”

“You – you son of a -”

Okay, it was also impossible to complain when Casey then bent his head and covered most of his cock with his mouth, not the easiest feat. He took him deep in the back of his throat, sliding up and down ... and if the kid could think, he’d tell his lover he damn well better be ready. It was going to happen.

“Jesus ....” Chuck rasped. “Casey, that’s ... ah.”

Casey looked up at him and did it again. At the swish of his tongue, Chuck’s head felt hot, pounding. He attempted to buck up again, but Casey kept his hand tight on his hip to hold him down. The other caressed his balls like he owned them.

There was nothing else Chuck could do, or wanted to do, but lay there and take it.

“Easy, brown eyes ....” Casey said when he drew back. Strong firm fingers circled him at the base of his cock, his thumb stroking the taut vein. A moment passed as Chuck closed his eyes, wondering what he was going to do. Until he felt a squeeze.

The grip, very careful pressure just above his balls, affected him strangely. “Oh ... God, Casey. Wh-what?”

“Like it?” Casey gave him a stroke with his other hand, but while his thumb and forefinger were clasped around the root of Chuck’s dick, he’d only be stuck vibrating with the near climax until Casey let go.

Chuck suppressed a growl of a response. Casey really did want to torture him. “John ... what -”

“Don’t worry, kid. You’ll be fine.”

Keeping his grip at the base, Casey went down slow, his tongue caressing him, tasting, mouth pulling. He flicked the underside, and putting his other hand on Chuck’s thigh, Casey dug in, holding onto him to take him deeper, sliding down every aching inch. And he pulled, lips dragging along the glistening surface, and went back down.

“Oh, you’re evil.” Chuck’s head fell back with a thunk and he stared up at the fluttering leaves. His brain was up there somewhere floating around and he couldn’t move. Couldn’t fuck his mouth.

“Like that, Chuck?” Casey asked, withdrawing long enough to look up at him. “Is that what you wanted?” His voice dropped to that dangerous lower register, as dirty as having wide-open sex on this blanket. “‘Cause I’ve been waiting to give you that.”

“Do ... it.” Chuck then had to gasp because Casey actually listened, sinking straight down on his dick.

“Oh there,” the kid breathed, fisting his hands. He wanted to come so fucking bad and why will this bastard not let him? “Let ... go of me ....”

Well, Casey was back to not listening. With his hand in place, he dipped his tongue and swirled around the crown, slow loops, and when he pulled back, the warm exhalation made Chuck’s dick thrust towards him.

“Next time, puppy, I’ll suck you until you spurt on yourself. But right now?” He paused, dropped a wet kiss on the head, and let go. “I’ve got other ideas for you.”

“But why?” Chuck swallowed. His voice had come out a bit whiney. “I - think that you should reconsider your position!”

“Here. Rethink this position,” Casey answered. While Chuck let out a frustrated muffled sound - not whining - his boyfriend climbed up from his knees and sprawled out his big body next to him. Or half on top of him, since he was up on one elbow, but definitely leaning into him. “Open, kid.”

Chuck was still figuring out why he was now blinking fuzzily at Casey’s smirk, level with his eyes, so he was a little slow on the uptake. “What? You want me to -? Mmph.”

“Suck on those, brown eyes.” Casey’s murmured words brought two fingers to Chuck’s mouth. The kid’s eyes went wide, but the feel of Casey’s body curled protectively over him and around him made Chuck want to do exactly as Casey ordered. “That’s it. Get them wet ....”

“Mm.” Chuck was unable to resist the pressure of Casey’s fingers, or the temptation to just do what he asked. So without giving it another thought, he closed his lips around the two fingers, and sucked.

“Yeah, like that, kid?”

He didn’t expect an answer, so Chuck looped his tongue around them, saliva automatically pooling in the back of his mouth. Seeing Casey’s gaze fixed to his lips, Chuck instinctively closed his eyes, blocking out everything but his sense of taste.

“Christ. No you don’t.” Casey twirled one finger around his tongue, getting his attention. “Look at me, kid.”

Chuck’s dark eyes refocused. Casey rewarded him by dragging a knee over his cock, making his reaction leap, not a wise idea since the stimulation he was already experiencing nearly overwhelmed him. Or overpowered, because there was a vulnerability to this position, on his back, Casey over him.

When he felt another drag over his cock, the kid forgot about that. He groaned softly, clenching his teeth.

“Yeah?” Casey asked, testing again. “You’re going to make my dick harder with those little noises you make.” He held his fingers where they were, keeping Chuck quiet. “And I’m already rock hard, so that’s a good trick you can do, eh, puppy?”

“Hmph!”

Casey slid his fingers out, wet with saliva, and this time he shut the kid up with his mouth. Even as he increased the pressure of the kiss, his hand smoothed down the kid’s belly, and when Casey’s thumb skidded through the fine coating of dark hair arrowing to his cock, Chuck begged his lover to touch him by shifting his hips upward towards his hand.

“Not yet, brown eyes,” Casey growled into his mouth. His hand drew down past the kid’s erect dick. He definitely had something in mind.

Chuck tried to pull away – to protest or curse or whimper, he didn’t know which – but then Casey teased the pucker of his asshole with the finger he had wetted for him.

Chuck couldn’t help but moan at this. It was good to feel him there, anywhere he wanted to touch him. At the first little push, the kid went from frustrated to pressing into him.

“That’s so ... good.” Chuck closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling of Casey tracing the rim, gently testing with one fingertip. “Oh. That’s ... yeah, do that.”

“You want it?” Casey whispered against his lips, and hearing willingness, he nudged Chuck’s legs apart with one of knees. “You asking, Chuck? Want me there?”

Two wet fingertips pressed against his asshole. “Jesus ... Casey. Now, okay?”

The last thing he expected was to lose the heat of Casey’s body, or feel him climb up on his knees. “Stay there,” his boyfriend told him, and there was double-pump on his cock, as if that was supposed to appease him.

“Do you ... have somewhere to go?” Chuck asked, wiping a droplet of sweat from his temple. “Was I – oh, I don’t know – boring you in any way?!”

Casey kneeled down at his pack with his back to the kid, so Chuck could only see that he was digging around for something. Chuck found this worrisome, since the last time Casey went into his leather satchel, the kid found himself with a cloth over his eyes and alone.

“Um. Hello. Remember me?” Chuck levered himself up on his elbows to glower at him. “Here I am. Over here. Just ... waiting.” Sweaty, needy, his erection standing at attention. Seriously, did he not see this? “Should I be ... concerned about what you’re doing over there?”

“Why would you be concerned?” Casey asked, not bothering to turn around.

“Well, if my memory serves me, the last time you left me like this, I ended up blindfolded.” Chuck swung a leg out to the side to nudge Casey’s foot. “So if you have any ideas, buster, of pulling something from your bag of tricks -”

“Nah.” Casey slanted his head to wink at him. “I thought I’d save the fun stuff for later. Ease you into it, right, puppy?”

“Ease? What the hell does that even mean?”

“- but I couldn’t help but notice you’re tighter than a preacher’s hand on the collection plate, and considering ....” Being overt about his assets, Casey let his voice trail. “Well, I thought you might appreciate this.”

“What?”

“This.” His hand came up to waggle the small tin of slick stuff in front of Chuck’s face. “Remember? Don’t wanna push a cattle drive through a pinhole, do you?”

Chuck flopped back down and covered his eyes with his forearm. “I so hate you right now.”

“You’d really hate me if I didn’t have this, princess.”

Chuck heaved a sigh. “Is this fun to you?”

“Yep,” Casey replied succinctly, and he knee-walked across the blanket to loom over him. The move got Chuck to shift his forearm, allowing Casey to kiss the scowl from his face. Then hooking a hand under Chuck’s neck, Casey sucked lightly on his tongue, softer, coaxing him to open up a bit more.

It was a gentle ask, Chuck sensed, so he did. He let Casey speak to him just by stroking a thumb across the stubble on Chuck’s cheek. “Okay, this is better,” the kid said against his lips.

Not quite ready to let go, Casey cradled his jawbone in his palm to hold him there, kissed him harder. Chuck leaned into him, feeling his vitals coil. He knew this before but Casey was a hell of a kisser. And a man who knew what he wanted. When he pressed in, Chuck parted his lips, succumbed to him, feeding him a little broken noise as Casey bit down lightly on his bottom lip.

“Move over a little,” Casey said, and the kid felt him shift along his right side as Casey lay down next to him. “You ... warm now?”

“Yes. I’m ... good.” Only Chuck wasn’t willing to break the kiss yet, so he clutched a shoulder, not letting his boyfriend pull away, and took his lips again. He loved it when Casey was like this, like a window had opened and for once he could see a bit of tenderness, feel him lose balance just a bit. Maybe it was a little of both of them.

As the kiss waned, Chuck started to turn on his side to face him, but Casey immediately put a hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down. “Stay ... just like this, kid,” he mumbled deeply, nipping his throat. “On your back.”

Seeing him reach for the slick, Chuck closed his eyes, his body one big ball of electric anticipation.

Okay, Casey was going to tell him to relax, but that never worked. Chuck fought for control, attempting to unwind on his own. Well, that worked about as well. Instead, his body reflexively stretched like a long piece of rope, and if anything, the tension made every muscle harder.

Casey rose on one elbow, taking the cautious approach. Maybe he had found out the hard way that his body size could be a detriment. Who knows, maybe he had once crushed his lover to death. Or maybe Chuck shouldn’t be thinking about that at this moment.

A hand ran over his stomach, moving up to brush knuckles lightly over his ribcage. “You okay?” Casey rubbed over one particular spot, tracing a light bruise. “This ... doesn’t hurt?”

Always protecting my body. Me.

Chuck peeked up at him. Golden sunlight had given way to purple and blue, casting both of them in a murky blanket of dusk. Deep perfect beauty that could take his breath away. He took a second to study his boyfriend, the sheen of sweat on his cheeks, the way his hair was still wet at the tips, standing up here and there. “Will you ever stop worrying about me?” Chuck asked, caressing Casey’s hair, flattening the funny spikes.

Casey let him, but he lifted a brow, waiting for a real answer.

“No, I’m not hurt,” Chuck said, picking up the big paw tracing his ribs. “But you know what I am?”

“Feisty as hell and ready to be shut up?”

“Clean. Very clean,” the kid said, trying not to laugh at Casey’s disgruntled expression. “And I have to say, John, I never took you as a man who couldn’t live up to his end of the bargain, but – mmph.”

-x-

Casey briefly smiled down at that smart aleck look on his face, and then bent his head to kiss him. A quiet, subdued Chuck could be a good thing. He meant to keep him that way for a few minutes.

The firm kiss took any argument the kid had tried to dish out, especially when Casey brought his hand lower until he found the indent of Chuck’s hip. He curled his big palm around the narrowest part of the kid, his thumb circling the nub of Chuck’s hipbone. After that, he deliberately ran a hand a little lower, fondled. Might as well give him what he wanted.

Dirty? Yeah, he could be dirty.

Chuck moaned into his mouth, no longer trying to talk, maybe at once realizing that Casey intended to make good on his end of the bargain. It occurred to him that he should quietly tease Chuck against his warm neck for being wanton and pleading to get his dick sucked. But no, there’d be time enough for that.

Casey responded to that little moan by nudging his legs up higher, getting better access to that sweet spot. To give him what he asked for. The slick on his fingers had been warmed by his body heat – hell, they were both sweating and would need another dip after this – and the fingertip against his asshole met less resistance this time. Oh, there. He pumped slowly, in and out, testing.

The little sound Chuck made at that almost had Casey pulling his head back to witness the reaction. Searing pain ... or pleasure? The answer came when the kid wound his fingers through Casey’s hair to keep kissing him, and arched up against his chest erratically, trying to get a little more.

Good. Pleasure it is. Casey would have to remember what got him to that little whimper sound, thrust deeper, looking for the place to hear it again.

“That okay?” Casey murmured against his lips, still pumping slowly in and out. Jesus. With the kid still tight yet slick, Casey nearly rolled him over and rammed home.

It wouldn’t take more than a thought to lose control, not when Chuck then tipped his head back to utter not-so-sweet nothings. “Oh. There ... yeah. Fuck, Casey.”

That alone was enough to want to throw the kid’s long legs over his shoulders and fuck him through the blanket, but he stopped himself. Even if all of the blood in his body was in his cock right now, the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt him.

“There, kid?” Casey asked, and one finger, big as it was, slid in like silk. “Like that?”

Chuck pressed his lips together, his eyes kind of glazed over. His hips began to move, shifting down, enough for Casey to realize the kid was trying to fuck a little more of his finger.

Casey had to hold his breath. Chuck didn’t know that Casey’s not going to let him come like this; no fucking way will he let him. It was only to lean in close to his face and breath his name into his ear, wait for him to start unraveling. It was part of the warm up show and Casey wasn’t ready to give that up just yet.

“Show me what you want,” Casey said, hushed. “Push down a little ....” He thrust gently, in and out, watching Chuck shift and press when it wasn’t enough. With the quiet urging at his ear, Chuck pushed a little more, and Casey went in two fingers deep. “Is that good, kid?”

It helped that Chuck had no more than half an ounce of fat on his body. It meant that when he clenched his lower abdomen, all of those pleasing lean muscles rippled under his skin, visibly constricting.

Not to mention tempting. So Casey lowered his head and licked a wet stripe there.

At the smooth touch of his tongue, Chuck inhaled sharply and moved his hips downward, trying to grind on him. Casey figured the little move was finally his answer. “Yeah, there it is ....” he said. “That enough?”

“God ....” Chuck was shaking a little, and now Casey set his teeth lightly into his shoulder, fingers sliding in. “Oh ....”

“Like feeling that?” Casey barely moved his hand inward.

“Yes, it’s – yeah, there,” Chuck panted. The way he let go of himself and got into the rhythm of it was so good that it hurt. Proved longing and desire beat the hell out of inhibitions.

“I need to fuck you ... there.” Needed it. Could hardly breathe for the power of it.

“Mmph ... you should ... a little more,” the kid said very softly. “God yes ...”

Casey kissed along his neck, up to his cheek, wet with a combination of creek water and a new layer of perspiration. Next time he’d do it in the creek. Up to their waists. Water churning around them.

Hell, he’s already making plans in his head of how many ways he could make love to him, make him do this.

Casey’s eyes moved directly over Chuck’s, staring down, amused that he’s not certain Chuck even registered him there. The kid was trying to concentrate on other things, Casey figured, by the way his tongue was trapped between his lips, eyes hardly slits. At the next little push, Chuck moaned low and long, bending one of his legs at the knee. Giving him more access.

Like Casey needed permission.

“You want more than that, kid?” Asking, because he wanted to hear it. In his own way, it was begging, but Chuck would be too close to the brink to know that.

Casey leaned in and dropped a kiss on his partly open lips, bumped his nose. It was no trouble to curl his fingers just slightly, waiting for an answer.

“That’s so ... fuck, just come on, John ....”

“Good?” Hearing it from his lips, hungry and sexy like that, was the whiff of air Casey needed. When Chuck drew in a breath between his teeth, it pierced straight to Casey’s -

– not his heart. Couldn’t be. Just a jolt of heat in his chest.

He shook it off and lightly kissed the mark he had left on the kid’s shoulder a minute ago, feeling Chuck flex under the caress. The kid turned his head to see him, brushing his jaw against Casey’s temple, and Casey caught his lips in a kiss. It lasted only until Chuck pulled back, leaving a bit of emptiness there.

“You ... don’t have to hold back,” the kid whispered, and the words made Casey’s cock react as if he was being pulled on a leash. “Just ... let me ...okay?”

So many ways he could end that, Casey thought. Let me give you what you want ... let me love you.

With one last thrust of a finger, Casey sat up on his knees between Chuck’s legs, nudging them apart. His hands slid down a pair of lean thighs, the sprinkling of lighter hair there tickling his palms. When they reached the kid’s upper calves, Casey clamped down and raised them, putting himself solidly between Chuck’s thighs and pushing his knees up to the height of Casey’s shoulders.

“Oh ... shit.” Chuck squeezed his eyes shut at the exposure, the sense of lost control because his thighs were over his head and the weight of Casey’s upper body was pressed hard against him. “What ... what are you doing?”

Casey rolled his eyes. The kid’s brain must be the fritz, though to be honest, maybe he never fucked him like this before. “Does it hurt?”

“Uh, no?”

“Trust me?”

“Yes ...?”

Casey glared down at the inflection he had put on it. “Then just sit back and enjoy the ride, brown eyes.” He pulled Chuck’s thighs up at a higher angle, forcing him to lock his long legs around Casey’s back as he rocked. “Here.”

“Jesus ... Casey.”

It whistled out between Chucks’ clenched teeth, and Casey gave a low sexy laugh.

“Look at you,” he said, settling between his legs. “Made me so fucking hungry for you ... didn’t you?”

He found Chuck’s anus with the tip of his cock, rubbed against him. At the brief stimulation, Chuck writhed up to him, need quivering in every muscle, attempting to find penetration.

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Casey smiled and decided not to tell him how good he looks when he loosens up and forgets to be the bashful Chuck that Casey wants him to be most of the time. But the Chuck who will rub his ass along Casey’s rock hard dick, trying to get him in the crack? Yeah. No complaints.

“Casey ....”

“Want that, huh?” A couple of long, gradual strokes up and down his crack were meant to slow him down, but because this is Chuck – and Casey is still trying to decipher all of his little noises – it had the opposite effect.

“Oh. That’s ... Damn,” Chuck said, gazing up at Casey through those half-mast eyes. With his body pinned under him, knees lifted up and spread apart, the kid had to put his whole heart into trying to move. The friction of Casey’s cock sliding along his crack had the kid clamping onto Casey’s biceps, trying to lift his hips. “That’s so ... please.”

Please? Oh, he’s smart, isn’t he?

Since he couldn’t hurt him like this, Casey gave Chuck a little more of a thrust along his snug crease. He found the pucker of his asshole and gave it a little attention, crown pressed tight to it without slipping in. Because at this point, Casey’s certain the slick and sweat could ease him in with one thrust.

“Yeah, you think it’s good?” Casey asked, his dick skidding over his opening, not stopping to slide in. “Why don’t you tell me what else you want, kid.”

“This,” Chuck said. “You should ... do m-more.”

Casey briefly considered carding strong fingers through his curls, get Chuck to meet his eyes straight on. But that would mean letting go of one leg, and holding him like this, no freedom, was something Casey wasn’t quite ready to give back to him yet.

“Yeah? Gonna say it?”

“Mngh.” The kid raised his head, rocking his ass up against Casey’s cock. “Come on ... fuck.”

Casey couldn’t help but brush damp curls from Chuck’s forehead and smile down at him. “Still tight?” he asked, and repositioning his dick at his entrance, slipped in an inch or two, testing. “Yeah, still feel like a virgin to me, kid.”

Not entirely true, but it sounded so good just to say it. Like he thought, though, the hour or so of messing around and the slick put a little softness on his pucker. Casey could feel him trembling for it. Maybe the kid was ready.

Casey watched his face, tentatively pressing, until Chuck did the one thing that surprised the shit out of him. The kid clenched his fingers in and pulled, bringing Casey into him farther and faster than he had intended. “Jesus...,” Chuck breathed, “That’s it, Casey ... there.”

“Son of a bitch ....” Casey did his best to withhold two physical responses in answer to finding himself halfway home. One, jolting backwards at the surprise of being hauled into him, or two, giving up his last brain activity and just driving all the way to the place he sought to find.

It’d be so easy. Reaming him hard, pistoning in and out, feeding Chuck’s hunger. Feeding his own at the same time.

No, he wasn’t ready to do that. Not tonight, no matter how badly the kid seemed to want it. Casey had made a dumb-ass vow at some point in the past week that he wasn’t about break. It would hurt, because it had been a long while, and Casey wasn’t exactly small. Not to mention Casey already knew the kid was going to be a bit of a tight fit. Making him feel every inch of that cock deep inside him, burning down the shields, well, he may welcome him tonight. Hell, even welcome the pain that came jumbled with such sweet pleasure.

Tomorrow would be a different story. It was the hardest thing, but he had no intention of giving up the privilege of doing this often and freely from here on out.

“Easy, kid,” Casey whispered, pulling back. Despite the overwhelming desire to just thrust deep, a full stab and withdrawal, he gave Chuck as much he had abruptly taken, no more. “There it is, brown eyes ... you missed me, didn’t you?”

Chuck growled, hands clutching, steering Casey’s hips against him. “Don’t ... don’t hold back ... come on ....”

Casey bit down on his bottom lip, choking off the grin. Damn, skittish boy to little whore with one poke against his hole. “Greedy bastard, aren’t you?” he mumbled, gliding his cock into the tight channel of his ass, slow, steady. “Settle down, kid ... yeah, I can feel you shaking....”

“God ... Casey.” As Chuck spoke, his back rounded off the blanket. He closed his eyes, jaw held taut. “Keep – keep going.”

Casey had to look at the ground. The chorus in the night air – Chuck’s panting breath, full of orders and commands, his warm flesh softly slapping his thighs – it was almost too much. He could barely restrain himself from the excruciating feel of it, Chuck’s ass muscles holding him, his hands trying to pull him closer.

He thrust, easy, just another inch of him. “Yeah ... feel that?” he added in bare rumble. “Missed you, too, so much.”

He watched the young man beneath him react to the words, the beautiful way his shoulders and chest lifted and expanded from his harsh breath, reminding Casey of a bird taking flight. “Hold on, kid ... easy.”

Try saying that to a tightly strung piece of wire, he thought, even as Chuck’s hips rocked up. God, his perfect cock was so hard, curved between their bodies and aching for attention. Leaking, too, and Casey wanted nothing more to than to swirl that around with his tongue, but it would mean leaving his warmth, and he wasn’t about to do that. Too damn good. Waited too long to be here.

As Chuck dug his fingers into Casey’s hips again, Casey leaned in, using his weight now to fully pin him down. “Is that it, kid? That what you wanted?” he asked, taking hold of his slender thighs and sliding them over his shoulders, his abdomen pressed hard against Chuck’s length. “Feel good on your cock?”

“Oh ... that’s ....” Chuck made a noise in his throat and shoved up to him. With Casey’s stomach pressed against his hard cock, his arching became a slow rub. Soulful brown eyes blinked up at him, first focusing on Casey’s mouth, then shifting up to meet his eyes. “Yeah, there. John, please.”

“Please what?” Yeah, he was going to hear it. Casey broke the ‘fuck me’ gaze to lower his lips to the kid’s dark curls, sweat plastering them to his temple. “Tell me.”

“F-fuck, Casey ....” Chuck’s brows drew down, face tense. Everything in his body strained tight, down to those ass muscles surrounding him. Strong fingers clenched into his flesh, and now Casey was sure he’d have bruises on his hips in the morning. “H-harder ....”

Casey brought down a hand and ran it over the kid’s ass. Taking hold of a buttock, he sunk his fingertips into the firm flesh. It’d be sure to leave some claw marks. Could make Chuck study the mirror from behind tomorrow before giving Casey a funny look.

Didn’t matter. He could fuck him hard if that’s what the kid wanted. Wasn’t tonight all about giving in to Chuck’s demands?

“That it, kid?” Casey asked, slowly thrusting, working himself in. Rocking his hips with a little more force than before. “Want it there?”

“Mmph.” The kid dropped his hands to his sides, fingers curled into fists. Eyes, warm chocolate, looked up at him, begging. “All of you ... God, Casey ... that’s ....”

“Christ, kid.” Casey buried his face in the humid crook of his neck, whispered against his skin, “Like my cock there, don’t you?”

“Oh God.” Chuck bit down on his lips and raised his hips higher, needing deeper penetration. “Come on ....”

Casey had a revelation then and there. Chuck throwing around the orders while on his back was going to be enough to make him explode. So the second he was at the right angle, he pulled back and thrust his cock home. “There, brown eyes? That what you’re looking for..?”

“You ... bastard, yes.” The kid’s muscles tightened and he groaned with pleasure of it. Casey saw him open his eyes a bit wider, his lashes lowering and he realized it was to watch himself get fucked. It made Casey’s pulse race. Chuck wanted to see it, and Casey wasn’t about to give him nothing to watch. He slapped himself against Chuck’s ass, hard. Again. And again.

“Oh ... that.” Chuck brought one hand up to touch Casey’s chest, grunting out little sounds at every thrust. The feathering touch was enough to make Casey want to give it up right there.

“You want me to fuck you like this ...? Make your ass a little raw?”

Chuck managed to nod, lifting his ass off the ground. Casey was new to this business when it came to the kid, but he swore it meant, God, please fuck me.

It didn’t matter what he said, or how he answered, because fucking him like this wasn’t going to last. Casey was already on the edge, and with Chuck’s body reacting eagerly to every stroke, it was obvious that the need to let go had overtaken them like kerosene to fire.

“Gonna come for me, brown eyes.” Staring into his lover’s face, Casey lowered one of his hands between them, taking hold of the kid’s cock. “That what you wanted?”

“Oh, God ... shit.”

Casey fucked him relentlessly now as Chuck made noises that sounded like approval, his big hand giving the kid short pulls on his cock to match each deep down stroke inside of him. “Is it good, kid?” he asked, kissing his parted lips. “Wanna fuck my hand ..?”

Jesus, Chuck had surrounded him. His clean aroma was in his nose, the whacky hair brushing his, then his cheek and jaw. Everywhere inside him, not the other way around.

The world around them began to crawl. He wasn’t going to make it, and if that was the case, holy God, the kid was coming with him.

Not that it looked like Chuck would give him a fight on that. When Casey’s thumb rubbed the tip, pressed against the underside of his cock, Chuck’s hips jerked trying to get more of that hand.

Oh, fuck, this was ... Casey didn’t know how long he’d have to wait to see this again, but the image of Chuck shuddering to come in his hand was something he wanted often.

Their bodies were locked tight, knees over his shoulders, and Casey felt every contact point between them. Not just his hand commanding his cock, but all of him. Casey kept his head down, tucked over Chuck’s shoulder, doing his damndest not to ream him but knowing it was already too late.

“Casey ....” Chuck clenched down and released, a thin stream, then a thicker one, spattering the narrow area between their bodies with warm sticky fluid. The kid’s ass muscles trapped him and Casey thrust the kid hard, wanting him to understand his need was just as desperate.

“Yeah ... there you go ....” Casey said, bucking into him. Though it had taken everything he had, he fought back his own release for a second to watch his young lover’s tense face, trapped in his orgasm.

It made him forget everything but this beautiful kid. His dark eyes, his lean body, his crooked smile. All his.

Casey loosened his grip on Chuck’s cock and rocked into him, forcing him to feel all of it, laying chest to chest, eye to eye. Letting Chuck take him all the way and beyond, Casey groaned out his climax. It was him drowning this time. Every inch of his body under the surface, only it was Chuck taking him in like a tidal pool.

Finally, after forever, their breathing slowed.

Casey leaned in and kissed Chuck’s damp forehead, threading fingers through that dark thick hair. Neither seemed to mind that Casey was still slowly fucking him, gently, completely spent. Eventually, he shifted and came to a stop, still inside him.

“Jesus, brown eyes,” Casey muttered. He splayed hands on Chuck’s shoulders, sinking him into the blanket. “... the hell got into you?”

“I – well.” Chuck flushed, took hold of his wrists, and gave him a shaky half smile. “Not fair of me ... to make you do that....”

Casey let out a breath and stared down at him. Christ. Was this kid serious? Casey had just bent his body backwards, fucked him hard into the blanket ... and the kid felt guilty about that?

“Shut the fuck up,” Casey said, and cupping his jaw, he lowered his head and kissed him. Slow and thorough, teasing his tongue and bottom lip until he heard Chuck whimper into his mouth again, still wanting to say something. Well, hell no.

Only when he sensed the kid had capitulated did Casey pull back. Chuck started to look away to avoid the intimacy of close eye contact, but Casey used the hold on his jaw to steer his head back to him. “None of that from you. Don’t want to hear it.”

“I ... do have to tell you something.”

Casey wanted to roll off him, but his muscular body tangled with his was too good to let go. “What?”

“I lost feeling in my legs ten minutes ago,” Chuck said, turning redder as he wiggled his toes, legs still spread up in the air. “And for the record, I don’t think my body was meant to fold up like an army tent.”

“You’ll survive.” A slow grin eased its way over Casey’s face, even as he shifted again to get his hands under him. “Hold your breath – just for a second.”

“Why – oh. Shit.” Casey didn’t look at his face when he pulled out, but the low hissing sound told him everything. His hand landed next to Chuck’s head on the blanket, and the kid shifted and stretched his legs.

“You’ll be fine,” Casey said, rubbing a hand down one of his trembling thighs. Because there was nothing else to say, and it was true.

“Mercenary.” Chuck smiled, and when he closed his eyes, Casey leaned over him to take hold of his chin. So that he could kiss him again, feel those tightened muscles relax as the stiffness let go of his body.

“You forgot insatiable bastard,” Casey said, “but I’ll have plenty of time to remind you of that tomorrow.” He rose up on his haunches, looking down at the lax sprawl of his lover. “Suppose I’ll have to carry you again?”

Chuck lifted a hand to paw at the air before it fell back to the blanket. “Only if I can put a saddle on your back and ride you out of here.”

“Oh, you’ll be riding, pancake.” Casey chuckled, and reaching down, tugged him to his feet. “More than you know.”

“Subtle.” Chuck gave him a look and rose, forced to catch hold of Casey’s arm abruptly. As the two men regarded each other, Chuck’s shy smile spread over his face. It was dark now, the night air softly thrumming with song of crickets and the bubbling stream. “I’m ... going to need another dip in the creek,” the kid said sheepishly, not looking down.

“One condition, kid,” Casey said.

Chuck gave him a quizzical look. “What’s that?”

“You have to take me with you,” he answered. Before Chuck could open his mouth, Casey stepped in front of him, cradled Chuck’s jaw in his hand. “Always. Got that?” and he kissed him tenderly, brushing his thumb against his cheek.

That made Chuck smile against his lips. When he pulled back, watching him with dark eyes, he took his hand and began to pull him towards the water.

And holding his warm fingers in his, Casey let himself get led to the water’s edge. Because now that he was certain he was the luckiest goddamn man ever born, he wasn’t about to let go.

-x- End Chapter Seventeen Sins Fell Angels-x-


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Eighteen

-x-

“Hey ... are you awake, Mr. Sleepyhead?” A finger, light as mouse toes, strolled down the angle of Casey’s nose. “Hm?”

Casey groaned and pulled the pillow tighter around his head. “Too early. Go back to sleep.”

Gauging by the room’s spreading warmth, he could sense the slanted rays of sunlight, knifing through the gingham curtain and dappling the room in lacy shadows. Opening his eyes would only remind him it was morning already, and he wasn’t equipped for any of that shit yet.

It’d remind him again they were back in the kid’s low-ceilinged loft. Back at the farm, the last place they should be. Given the late hour he had climbed up the stairs, and his dead-weary state, Casey barely registered anything more than the heavy beams, roughhewn logs, a chest of drawers, all of it helping to alleviate the gravity of their mistake.

Because holy God, it had a real bed. There were quilts, deliciously enveloping him, and better than his mother’s custard pie, a hard, lean body sprawled out next to his under the blankets.

If he cracked an eye open now, it would ruin the best he’d felt in a fucking long time.

Barely suppressed laughter floated around the puffy barrier over his eyes, straight to his ears. “You always struck me as the light sleeper type,” the kid went on, now playing with Casey’s sleep-ruffled hair. “But I guess I was wrong on that count. You can snore with the best of them.”

“I do not snore,” Casey reminded him. “And if I was sleeping heavily, it was only because I’ve been too busy trying to keep a little twit from getting us both killed.”

The mattress shifted under the kid’s weight. The next thing Casey felt was a head in the crook of his shoulder, a few stray curls brushing his neck. “Has he told you how appreciative he is?”

Hearing Chuck’s voice go a little deeper, Casey was immediately more awake than he had been a minute ago. Without lifting the pillow from his eyes, he shrugged the shoulder that was trapped under the kid. “Eh. He tried, at least,” Casey said, wishing he could see the affronted look on Chuck’s face. “It was a start. I’ll give him that much credit, I reckon.”

“A start?” His thick hair tickled Casey’s chin as Chuck turned to him. “Are you smiling under there?”

“Mm.” Casey bit down on his lip in case Chuck had any designs of lifting the pillow. “But what he lacks in experience,” he said, “the kid makes up for in enthusiasm.”

A long leg moved to lie on top of him, and Casey was thankful it was bare. So the kid hadn’t bothered to put on any clothes yet. Good, it would save him the trouble of stripping him.

“Nice try,” Chuck said mildly as he traced a finger slowly across the curve of his collarbone. “But I happen to have on good authority that this unappreciative little – what was that?”

“Twit,” Casey filled in with a scratchy voice, felt his skin glow and come to life beneath his fingertip.

“-twit plans on keeping you tied to his bed for the next – oh, I don’t know, few weeks? - to show his appreciation.”

“You think so?” Casey lifted the pillow enough to point his sleepy eyes at the kid’s face. Interesting proposition, but coming from him? “Like a challenge, goddess? Then go ahead. Maybe I’ll let you try it.”

The finger drew a line from temple to cheek. “I will.”

“What about food and water? Did you consider that?” Casey chuckled and put an arm over his eyes to shield them from the light. “Sounds like I’m going to need my energy.”

“I’ll bring it up from the kitchen.”

“Got this all planned out, huh?” Deliberately, Casey wrapped a hand around the rangy thigh draped over him, light hair tickling his palm, and he lifted it a little. Not quite enough. But since the kid didn’t put up a fuss, he kept slowly dragging Chuck’s leg upward, and when it rubbed against his cock, he left it there. “Considering the little twit has arms about the size of my wrist, I wonder how he plans on ... subduing me.”

“Well, for one, though the point about your wrists may be true,” and Chuck paused to circle one of Casey’s wrists with his finger and thumb as if to test it, “the person in question has aptitude on his side.”

“Aptitude.” Casey snorted, and twisting his wrist, he easily freed himself. “The nitwit better bring that and a pair of wrestling bears with him.”

“We have a cynic among us. What a surprise.” Chuck pushed himself up on his elbow, leaning over him and dropping his other hand on Casey’s chest. As he moved his fingers in tiny circles around the swell of one pec, a smile broke out on his face. “Want to know what else he has in his favor?”

When Chuck’s thumb grazed his nipple, Casey’s eyes darkened. “Mm ... yeah, like that ....” he murmured.

Talking wasn’t what he had in mind, and with Chuck’s hand on his chest, exploring his body like he was unearthing a man for the first time, Casey felt his lower belly begin to stir. Harden. Maybe the little nudge of his leg was an accident, but as the kid’s thigh brushed Casey’s arousal, there was the urge to move his new plaything on top of him and let Chuck feel the full press of his length. Better yet, get him to do something about it. With any other man, he’d be doing that already.

The only problem was that Casey now found a double-edged sword with Chuck. It killed him to even think it, but he wasn’t one of his past toys. Pretty to look at, play with, tossed in a heap after that. It was all the kid’s doing, the way he still fumbled, not knowing he had trapped him by now. Struggling between asking for permission and taking what he already had.

“You didn’t answer.” Chuck shifted his head, forcing Casey to look into his brown and gold-flecked irises while a fingertip twirled a curl of chest hair.

“Are we still talking about the twit?” Casey moved the pillow further out of the way because watching the kid imprint his fingers over muscles with the appreciative look on his face was too good to miss. “Or ... is it someone else who’ll be trying to hog tie me to the bed?”

“The person in question protests the name ... but yes. That’s the one.” Chuck drew back, considering him as Casey tucked a hand under his head. The little shift made Casey’s chest flex and rise under the kid’s warm hand, but what the hell ... he didn’t mind. Not with Chuck giving him a look of worship – when the fuck had anyone ever looked at him like that? – or with a naked body fit to his so perfectly. “But the other weapon he has?”

“Weapon,” Casey echoed, and a deep chuckle rolled in his throat.

“Is his deviousness,” Chuck said, his fingers now drawing a line down Casey’s sternum, unusually gentle considering the words coming from him. The warmth of his breath on Casey’s cheek gave him goose bumps, and he couldn’t remember the last time he shivered. He should stop to wonder why this kid has made him a dizzy, weak-kneed idiot, but the word devious stuck in his brain like a pitchfork.

He acted serious about keeping him here in bed.

“Devious?” Casey had to laugh. Unless he was mistaken, Chuck’s words could be taken suggestively – hell, even a bit dirtily - but instead of being skittish, the kid looked as if he’d be willing to step a toe over the boundary. So as he watched that seemingly innocent face for his reaction, Casey put his hand over Chuck’s and inched it down towards a more compelling locale. “Why don’t you tell me what the ... scheming little twit would do?”

“Well. He might start with this,” Chuck said. His fingers began to knead the dense upper body muscles, digging, before sliding down to the sensitive flesh of his ribcage. “Is that okay?”

“Heh.” Because he was still waking up, Casey rubbed his neck and stretched, surprised to feel a little stiffness in his shoulders. Maybe it came from carrying the kid through the water, or the physical exertion on the slope of the bank after that. “While you’re poking around, you could take care of this.”

“What?” Chuck’s eyes widened when Casey took his wrist, shifting it downward.

“Might wanna take a close look here.”

“Listen, sleepy-head,” the kid said, moving it back up. “It’s not going to be that easy.”

“No? What are you going to do, then?” Giving up on that for now, Casey disengaged his hand and slid it over his young lover’s stomach, fingers skidding through the sprinkling of dark hair under the kid’s belly. Since Chuck was bare naked, his hard on already seemed to have ideas. “I might be able to help you.”

“Uh, no.” Chuck got up from the bed and Casey’s hand fell to the blankets. “You ... said subdue – and you haven’t let me, um, prove my point yet.”

“You were serious, eh?”

“N-now that I have you back home, why would I let you go?” He was still smiling. The cute little stammer, however, told Casey that Chuck’s confidence was sliding back a little. The kid stood off to the side of the bed, naked and making things awkward, like he didn’t quite know what move to make next.

He was clueless. That only made Casey harder.

While Casey watched him tumble it around, Chuck tried to hide that stiff cock of his behind crossed wrists.

Really, kid. That’ll work.

“Lemme me get this straight,” Casey said, rolling his eyes, because just by bending one knee, Chuck backed up another step. “This twit’s great plan? Should I be asleep for it?”

Chuck tilted his head at him, doing his best not to let his line of sight wander over his boyfriend’s body. Twice. “I –no, that’s not part of it ... I guess.”

“You guess, eh?” No, brown eyes. Not even close. “You’ve thought this through, right? I mean, if you’re going to keep me ... tied to your bedpost for the next week or so, you must have another idea ....”

And Casey wouldn’t mind seeing the way this could play out.

Chuck furrowed his brows at him. “I might,” he said, his voice level and slow. “I’m not ... as naïve as you think I am.” One of the wrists he used to cover himself fell, then the other. Even better that the little slip of his composure rebounded, based on the way his smile got lop-sided. “You think ... I wouldn’t do it.”

“Do I have any past history with you,” Casey asked, gradually moving the blanket lower, “that tells me you would do anything that ... gutsy?”

God, he had almost screwed up and said bad or dirty, but that would have Chuck running for cover. Make him think he wasn’t being a good little boy like the sister raised him. Oatmeal and a pat on the head.

Gutsy. Now that was a dare. Yeah, I dare you, sweet cheeks.

Chuck backed up another step, not a surprise, but Casey had to give him some credit. He didn’t break eye contact, either.

“Going somewhere, kid?” Casey asked, grinning long and slow. “Standing over there? Maybe you have something better to do this morning?”

“Maybe in some ways I still think you’re a giant sneak,” Chuck said. “Or – or maybe I’m just strategizing? Did you ever think of that?”

“Afraid I’m going to get you on your back if you get too close?” Casey replied, casually threaded both hands together beneath his head, doing his best to look defenseless. Nothing scary here, kid. “Come over here and find out.”

“Very funny,” Chuck muttered, crossing his arms.

“You already woke me up. How else do you plan on torturing me?” Casey asked. The rumpled quilt, still warm from their bodies, was pushed away completely, and with his knee bent, Casey was out in the open with nothing to hide. It was simple enough to get his attention. No matter how the kid tried to hide it with his bashful tendency to look away, Casey already knew what Chuck liked to look at. Why not use that to get Chuck out of his head for a while?

“You have to promise to stay there,” Chuck said. “Just like that. No tricks.”

Casey repressed a smile. “Afraid?”

“No. Smart.”

Casey eyed him doubtfully. There was only one thing he wanted more than having the kid writhing under his body in about two minutes from now. More than hearing the request for the fuck he was already asking for, but couldn’t even breathe it out.

And that would be to find out if Chuck could really use that purported deviousness to do what he had suggested.

A little prodding might help.

“So tying me to the bed,” Casey drawled. “Plan on forcing me to watch you fix one of your doo-dads while I can’t do anything about it?”

Chuck frowned, rested his shoulder on a beam next to the stairs. “Why would I do that?”

“Or if you have any plans to make me watch you read a book, yeah, I’ll take a pass on that, too.”

“It might do you some good,” Chuck observed astutely.

“Eh. And if you even think of rattling on and on about your latest goddamn shoot the coffee can conquest with your idiot friend ....”

“Okay, smart ass, I get why you’re poking fun at Morgan and I – and God, I wish I never would’ve told you about our games – but what the heck are you trying to say?”

Casey let out a short laugh and shook his head. “I’m only saying, princess, if you did manage to tie me to the bed? Well, you wouldn’t have the first clue what to do next.”

“I would so.” Chuck slapped a hand over his mouth, blushing down to his bare chest.

Casey grunted, a noise of amusement blended with ‘now you’re thinking’. “Yeah, I bet you do, stallion. Wake me up when the coffee’s ready.”

“You’re doubting me, aren’t you?” Chuck pushed off from the beam, giving Casey a look, proving he finally understood he was being goaded. “Well, I do have ideas,” he mumbled, “and they don’t involve a BB gun or fixing a clock.”

Casey was about to make another comment about the kid learning what to do with his tools, but if the goal was to get his erection in Chuck’s mouth – which it was - this kind of dialogue probably wouldn’t get him to the road of bliss any time soon.

“Oh, I don’t think you know, Bartowski,” Casey said, lifting his elbows nonchalantly to show the kid he wasn’t exactly worried. The move tightened his arms, bunching up hard muscles along his biceps to his forearms, but he couldn’t help that. “How about I go back to sleep while you think about what you’d like to do?” But don’t actually have the balls to pull off. Do you, kid? “That sound okay, muffin?”

Chuck ran his hand through his hair and weighed his options with pursed lips. He was so far from his comfort zone Casey wanted to draw him a map. “Sure,” he said finally. “Why don’t you go ahead and do that? I’ll be right back.”

“You’re going to do what?”

He got an unequivocal answer to that query a minute later.

Chuck disappeared down the stairs and returned with something suspiciously shiny in his hand. The kid was still all long legs, soft eyes, a red flush on his cheeks, but underneath all of it there was confidence that didn’t look totally out of place.

Being caught in his mischievous dark eyes, it took Casey a moment to see what the kid slung between his fingers. Making loops in the air, the glittery circles going around and around. And the kid smiled, obviously waiting for the reaction.

“Where the fuck,” Casey asked, and he couldn’t help but tip his chin to stare, “would a barely broken in colt like you ... get a pair of handcuffs?”

“Well ... I –”

“Because I have to tell you kid, either you are the best liar in the world, or you have peculiar secret hobbies.” If only.

Chuck twirled them a few more times before he snagged the cuffs mid-air. “Would you believe I’m a lawman – a pretty stealthy one, too – and all of this has been a farce?”

“Yeah, right.”

“And that I’m prepared to arrest you, and maybe turn you in for a reward?”

Casey let a low belly laugh. A second later, he almost had to do a double take at Chuck’s little swagger. It looked good on him. By the time the kid stopped at the side of the bed and openly surveyed Casey’s body, he had to simply stare at the other man. Because really, just the idea of it. What in Sam Hill was the kid thinking?

“Not a chance that you’re the law, farm boy,” Casey said, not moving, waiting to see what he would do. “I don’t get bamboozled, especially by a button like you. I would’ve pegged you as a constable the first night we met. Hell, you didn’t know the first thing about shootin’ iron.” His leg reached over and rubbed the kid’s thigh. “And if I recall anything about that night, you were the last one I would expect to know how to ... bring a man in.”

“Is that so?” Chuck asked, suddenly looking cocky. “Because I think that’s exactly what I did.”

Casey narrowed his eyes at him. “Better come up with another reason. Where did those come from?”

“Okay, um ... would you believe that I often lure handsome men to my farm, seduce them with my charm, and chain them to my bed?” Chuck leaned over, grinning down at him. “Where I can use them in any way I like?”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Not buying it, shortbread. The only thing you were using until I got here to rescue you was your right hand.” He let his gaze slide down Chuck’s torso, pausing meaningfully at that beautiful cock, and back up. “Unless you’re a lefty?”

“Asshole.” Chuck made the comment without rancor and he dropped his hand on the pillow next to Casey’s head. “Let’s try this. Would you believe Morgan borrowed them from the Sheriff to see how they work, got himself chained to one of the spokes of Mr. Caulfield’s turnip wagon, broke the clasp, and the deputy asked me if I could repair them?”

“And you still argue with me that this guy isn’t a complete moron?”

“Hah.” Chuck let his hand slide over the headboard, down to touch Casey’s hair. “So did my story become any more plausible, or do you think I’m actually going to pursue one of those other options?”

Casey lifted his hips and stretched, making the kid really eyeball every inch of him. Part of him wondered why they were still talking when what he wanted to do was grab Chuck, tip him backwards and dive into him. “You’d never be able to pull off one of those other stories. Except in your dreams, maybe.”

“Really ....” Chuck, lowering his face without breaking eye contact, took his chin. Casey had nowhere else to look, not that he had any desire to pull away. There was just a flicker of a nervous smile at first before Chuck’s nose bumped his playfully. “Let me do this, at least.”

The kid then pressed his slightly parted lips against Casey’s, and Casey felt more goose bumps along his skin at the push of Chuck’s tongue sliding into his mouth. Finally kissing him let Casey relax into the mattress, answer his movements, listen to a little groan of response.

One of Chuck’s hands ended up in his hair, mussing it with his fingers. At first it felt good, but after a half minute, the kid’s hand moved to trace the edge of his ear, and it was fucking annoying. Plus there were a dozen other places Chuck could make better use of his palm. For that reason, Casey decided to end that game with a bump of his shoulder.

Chuck didn’t get the hint.

“Get your hand away from my ear,” Casey said gruffly against Chuck’s lips.

When he kept doing it, Casey lifted his hand to remove it for him.

But instead of his fingers meeting a tangle of warm flesh and quilts, an iron cuff pulled taut, digging into his wrist.

“Nu-uh,” Chuck said. “Probably don’t want to use that hand to take a swing at me.

“What?” Fuck! Ow! Casey jerked his head to the side. “That... isn’t possible.”

“Look what I caught,” the kid then went on, reveling as he pulled back from the distracting kiss. “I think I just added one more unwitting – and may I say rather careless? - man to my collection. Wow. You fell for that?”

Casey stared up at him for a brief moment, ignoring the smile. “Jesus. What the hell?” He tugged on his wrists again, but Christ, he stopped fighting in a damn hurry when it only got him another dig in the flesh.

Tilting his chin to get a better look, Casey’s eyes caught the two metal loops connected by three small links, wrapped between one of the headboard’s slats. He only had about six inches of play between his wrists and moving without breaking the bed was out of the question until a key appeared. “You created a diversion, you little sneak.”

“Yep,” Chuck said, grinning, his stark naked body almost trembling with victory. “And I have to say, outlaw, it was pretty easy to do.”

Casey opened his mouth demand the key – but then he had to wonder at himself. Why would he do something that idiotic? Face facts, cowboy. His brown-eyed boy had ideas, all right, and Casey wouldn’t mind seeing what his imagination could do when it punched through the net of demureness.

So he took a deep breath and shifted his hips some, his rock-hard dick bobbing a little and hopefully the kid was paying attention. “All right, tiger. We’ll play it your way ... for now.”

“Like you have a choice?” Chuck said, putting one knee on the bed and smiling brightly down at him. “You said this bothers you, huh?” Instead of doing what he should be doing, Chuck began teasing the edge of his ear again. “When I ... touch you like this?”

“Kid?”

The threat in Casey’s tone made him come to a grinding halt. “Um, yes?”

Someone needed a lesson. Casey slid his foot over and hooked it around Chuck’s knees. “You do realize that I still have use of my legs?

“I might’ve noticed. Ow. Too tight, easy ... easy.”

“I could slide my leg up just like that,” and he paused to demonstrate by dragging it further, now over the kid’s hips, “then maybe take it all the way to your throat? Put you in a chokehold between my thighs before you could even stutter out another syllable?”

“I – okay, you have a point. No touching the ear.” Chuck took his hand away, but only to slide it up Casey’s arm, pressing his fingers into a thick bicep. “Boy. Nice. Flex for me.”

“Go to hell,” Casey said before he had to bite down on his bottom lip.

“Mm. Right there.” Chuck squeezed the swell of his muscle appreciatively and then had the balls to kiss the end of his nose. “You know, when you pretend to get angry with me, it kind of does it on its own. Tightening up like that?”

“Not your one-trick pony, kid,” Casey muttered, uncertain how he felt being Chuck’s plaything.

Chuck laughed a little and brought his hand up to touch his jaw, outlined the angle of it with a cool fingertip and without the worry of a swat. At least the kid listened, even when for once he didn’t have to, and his deference to Casey’s dislikes made the larger man sink his shoulders into the pillow, relax his wrists. If there was ever a time where he might be willing to give up some control, this was it.

More to the point, this mixed up yet intelligent kid was the only man who could take it.

All right. Breathe. Instead of thinking of his wrists and the metal, he should be wondering why he was suddenly sitting on a hoard of treasure. Because, fuck, being here was a problem? The man that he ... wanted to be with for a damn long time had just straddled him, long legs on either side of his, and it was getting harder and harder to come up with issues around this scenario.

“Hm. Comfortable,” Chuck said, rocking a little. “You know what would make it better?”

Casey could think of a few ideas, but it’d be much more interesting coming from his lips. “Bringing me coffee?”

Chuck rolled his eyes and bent down to kiss him. Lips to his, he then repeated the rocking motion, giving Casey a feel of firm yet impossibly pliant flesh against his cock. “That makes it better, doesn’t it?”

Well, he had a point. Casey couldn’t come up with a damn thing to say, even as the prisoner being held underneath him.

“That’s all you have?” Casey murmured. When he lifted his gaze to see what the friction did to the kid, he was pleased that his eyes had taken on a sort of uneasy alertness. “Come on, pancake, what else do you have for me?”

Casey half expected to see his young lover move his knees up, landing on either side of Casey’s shoulders, and rub the crown against his lips before sticking that long dick in his mouth. He’d let him, too, because the chorus from Chuck’s lips was entirely worth it.

What else? As Casey studied his face, he could see the kid gradually flushed, thinking about it. In another second, Casey almost suggested it to him – you’d like it, wouldn’t you, making me suck you off? But what was the point of this game if he had to tell him what to do?

“No faith in my skills?” Chuck said, smiling down at him, momentarily embarrassed by either his own actions or by his brief failure of confidence. “You never told me if you were ticklish. Are you?”

If he had his hands free, this is where Casey would be pinching the bridge of his nose. No one was that dense. “That’s why I’m here, like this, huh? You got me naked and chained to bed, and you want to tickle me?”

It was apparent Chuck chose to ignore that remark. Instead, the kid’s hands roved over his stomach. “No? Nothing?” Needless to say, the quest to find sensitive flesh at Casey’s midsection came up empty. “What about this?” he asked. Chuck’s hand trailed to the side of his lover’s ribcage, moving upward, his eyes narrowing curiously to watch Casey’s face. “Hm. Stubborn. This?”

“Nope.”

Since the larger man’s arms were caught over his head in a triangle, Chuck had free rein to keep trying, and this time he skimmed a hand up and under his arm. “Okay, everyone reacts to this.”

“Not everyone,” Casey said.

“Are you sure?” The kid poked him there again and raised a brow at him, waiting.

“If you’re done here, muffin,” Casey said, “can you find something to cover the window? I wouldn’t mind a few more hours of shut eye.”

Chuck sat taller on his perch, pretending to glare at him. “How could you not react to that? What? Does every part of you have to be impervious as iron? If you had me in this position and tickled me there, I’d be begging for mercy!”

“Is that what you want, kid?” It hardly mattered what he thought, because sometime today he’d hear it. In the meantime, Casey twisted his head to look up at his wrists and wriggled his fingers. “You take these off, and I promise you’ll be begging for mercy in no time, city boy.”

Chuck leaned forward and put his hands on either side of Casey’s head, filling Casey’s vision with goofy curls hanging down over his face and a grin to go with it. “You should keep something in mind, outlaw.”

“Yeah, what?”

“That I’m still debating whether or not to put a sock in your mouth.”

From this nervous little innocent, a threat like that almost made Casey laugh. The niggling question in his brain that stopped him, however, was this: if the sweet little cupcake on top of him already cuffed his wrists to a bed, what’s to say he wouldn’t take it a bit further?

“A sock, eh?” Casey said, and he thrust up against him, making Chuck jump. “That’s all?” Not gonna put that pretty cock in my mouth and make me suck you off before breakfast? ‘Cause I’d do it, kid, if you like.

Good Christ, Chuck could be the most obtuse man on earth when it came to certain insinuations, but he seemed to catch on because he blushed deeply. “Um, maybe later I’ll let you do that,” he told him and patted Casey’s head. “Only if you’re good and play nice, though. That has to be new for you, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Bartowski,” Casey acknowledged. He gave his wrists a little pull and the headboard creaked. “If you pat me on my head one more time, you might find yourself in my position later on – and I don’t tickle.”

“Ah.” Chuck eased back on him and dropped his hands on Casey’s chest. “I see. Tied up and still a charmer. Why am I not surprised?”

“So after tickling me, talking me to death was your next option?” Casey made a cynical grunt, doing his best to be the obdurate hard ass in light of his current predicament. Oh, he was going to pay for this. “Wake me up when you find the key.”

Chuck shut him up with his mouth on Casey’s, and his hand came down to wrap around him – yeah, that’s it, kid. Now you’re thinking. With his fingers circling him, Chuck then gave a little squeeze, stroking upward, and Casey arched up without thinking or caring. No hands, but he could do that, at least.

“Oh, you feel good.” Chuck breathed out the words in a rasp of air against his lips. “Is that what you wanted, John? That good?”

“What other tricks do you know, puppy?” Casey asked, thrusting up against the kid’s flat stomach.

“You. Just shut up,” Chuck said, drawing his knees backwards a bit along Casey’s outer thighs. It made it easier to slide his cock across Casey’s lower belly now, grinding down hard against him. “Oh. There.”

The insistent pushing and rubbing of that shaft of hard flesh against his own was perfect, and Casey closed his eyes to better enjoy it, growled deeply at the next pass. “Give you credit for that trick,” he conceded under his breath.

“If you’re good, I might have a few to show you.” Chuck spoke against his skin, his lips leaving a slow burn over the smooth layers of muscles at Casey’s shoulder. “You’re tense. I can feel it ... right here.”

“Yeah? Here’s a trick. It could help if you take these off.” The metal links jangled when he moved his hand.

“Nah. I’m good.” Chuck’s mouth formed a smile, and his lips traveled to the warm curve of Casey’s neck, nuzzling him. “I think I’ll just start here. If that’s okay?”

The kid knew he didn’t have to ask. And not waiting for an answer, Chuck kissed down his pale skin, caressing every inch he passed over; the pocket of his shoulder, the hollow of his throat, then dragging his tongue over one of his pecs.

“Ah, hell.” Casey swallowed at the feel of Chuck’s dark waves tickling his neck. “I might be able to suffer through it,” he said, “for a few minutes more.”

“Mighty kind of you.” Chuck’s lips drifted lower, his hand exerting pressure on Casey’s stomach. “You just be quiet ... and let me do what I want.”

“Christ. I told you already. Not ticklish.” It was true but even so, Casey sucked in a breath at the playful sandpaper stroke of Chuck’s jaw on his upper stomach. “Nngh.”

“Awfully close to ticklish, Casey, when you make you make that sound.”

“Just that rough stubble awfully close to a place that’s sensitive, that’s all.”

“Which is the definition of ticklish.” So the kid did it again.

“Dammit,” Casey mumbled. Not willing to fall into the trap by squirming – that would only encourage the little shit - he left it with that.

“I knew it. No one can be that immune.” Chuck grinned, a few fingers tracking over the sharp jut of a hip bone. “I’m finding out all kinds of things about you this morning.”

“Yeah, like what?” Casey asked, forcing himself to hold still as Chuck tested the sensitivity of his abdomen. At least he had the decency to use his lips this time and not the shadow of a beard.

“Well, for one, no matter how much you’re fighting me, you ... might like this.”

Okay, so I didn’t pick him for his worldliness, all right?

“And what else? Your body tightens like a cornered bear when you’re not completely in charge.” Breaking his amused scrutiny of Casey’s face, Chuck kissed his lower belly, kept both hands flexed tightly over his thighs. “But the truth is, you ... want someone to take care of you for once.”

“Is that what you think you’re doing? Oh.” Casey drew in a breath and arched up as the kid’s tongue teased him, just over the arrow of hair to his dick. Seeing an opportunity, he shifted his hips, bringing the curve of his cock to brush the side of Chuck’s curly head, begging for a little bit of attention. Kissing was nice, but starting the day by getting sucked off by that sweet mouth would make it worth getting woken up too damn early.

“Not ticklish there, either, I see.”

“Why don’t you ... come a little closer, kid?” he asked.

“Is this what you’re asking for?” Chuck said softly. He turned his head to the side and just breathed against him. Casey had to close his hands into hard fists to keep from breaking the headboard. His dick was straining to get closer, but there was nothing he could do except wait for Chuck to stop taunting him with his kisses and breath. “You want me to, don’t you?”

Casey shut his eyes for a moment, his heart tripping as his cock jumped. “You need to give me a better reason than that, brown eyes, to want to stay chained to your bed.”

Chuck’s head popped up to squint at him, and maybe he wasn’t expecting to hear the dark warning in Casey’s voice, but his body had tensed. Good. “Um, I thought – I thought you wouldn’t mind it if I –”

“Listen, cupcake. You really thought this through all the way?”

“How can you – okay, fine.”

“And teasing a man is one thing, but if you kill me, it’ll be a bitch getting by body down the stairs on your scrawny back.”

“Not to mention having to spend the day digging a big hole.” Chuck tipped his head to ensure Casey caught the cheerful smile. “But I had other things in mind.”

“Little asshole,” Casey muttered, his blue eyes fixed on the kid’s face. “What ... other things? Ah, fuck ... yes.”

The sudden, wet friction of Chuck’s mouth gliding down his length made his hips rise off the mattress. “Yeah, that’s better,” Casey said, sprawled and tipping his head back. “Being a good boy now, aren’t you?”

Good boy, only because he knew it got under the kid’s skin. Sometimes when he caught Chuck studying his face, he got the impression his young lover was sensitive about the reference of being too young and lost to be with a man like John Casey.

Casey wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hard enough for you, kid?” he murmured, and then groaned on the slick drag down Chuck gave him as an answer. He’d love to put a hand on Chuck’s head and help the kid take him deeper, but he could only watch and hump up into his mouth. “Mmnh ... you can take all of me ... can’t you?”

Casey helped him as much as he could. Though the shiny newness of it all was still there between them, he was slowly picking up on the nuances of what worked for Chuck. He used them, too. The tone of his voice, a little blunt encouragement to draw out the kid’s special talents. Whatever it was, it worked. When he suggested it again, Chuck took him deeper, tried to at least, and it was way better than just good.

The kid withdrew, drawing a quiet moan from Casey. The larger man lengthened down to his toes, arms cinched over his head. His wrists slackened, because whether the kid knew it or not, surrender to him felt like the gates of heaven he’d never see.

“God ... don’t fucking stop ....” he whispered. Air was getting tight. “Yeah. Like that ....”

Then he heard it. Cautiously, he lifted his head and pointed his eyes towards the window. Not his imagination. The noise in the distance made Casey’s muscles clench, every single one from his head down to his calves. Fizzling sparks of heat slithered over the back of his neck. He knew at once what it was that had made him spring so abruptly to the alert.

Oh, fuck. He didn’t want to disturb Chuck’s concentration. Hell, he didn’t ....

The noises weren’t getting fainter.

“Chuck,” Casey snapped. Instinct made him pull on his hand, though that did nothing but send a reminding bolt of pain through his wrists. “Get your damn head up.”

“Wuff wath -?

“Up. Stop.” When he didn’t move fast enough for Casey’s liking, Casey slid his leg up and kneed Chuck’s head out of way, forcing his dick to fall out the kid’s mouth. He’d think about how much he hated that fact later.

Chuck pushed up on braced arms, obviously torn between confusion and being mortally offended. Casey might’ve laughed about the offended expression, except first he had to find his gun.

“Move!” Casey tightened his grip between his knees, holding him to let him know he meant business.

“Are you – crazy?” Chuck broke-off there to wipe his hand over his mouth. “Please tell me you didn’t just say stop.”

“Horses.”

“What?”

Casey muttered under his breath and tipped his chin at the window. “Coming down the ridge. Get the key,” he ordered. “Now!”

Chuck’s mouth fell open a little, but he recovered quickly and clambered out of the bed. “Not now... not now ....”

That nailed Casey’s sentiment exactly. “About a half a dozen from the sounds of it,” he said, looking from the window to Chuck. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Putting on my pants, okay?!” The kid hopped up and down from one leg to the other while bouncing towards the window. Before he reached it, he halted and turned to the bed. “About half a dozen? Really? How can you even tell that?”

“I said move!” Casey shouted simply because being chained to the bed wouldn’t allow him to kick the kid in the ass. “Get me out of these!”

“Hang on. I want to see – oh, God.” With his worst fears confirmed, Chuck dropped the edge of the curtain and scrambled away from the window. “Why do you always have to be right?!”

“The key, moron!”

“Oh, God,” Chuck said quietly. He reached down and scooped his wrinkled shirt off the floor, began to hurriedly fasten the buttons. “How can this be? No one could’ve tracked us that -”

“Bartowski.” Casey’s voice sharpened, silencing him. “If you don’t bring me that key by the time I finish this sentence, I’ll –”

“Threat of death. Need the key. Got it.” Chuck abruptly wiped his hands down his pant legs and ran over to the top of the stairs. Being that they were as steep as a ladder, he had to pivot around and take them backwards. “Be right back!”

“Ah, fuck,” Casey muttered, watching as the kid’s head sunk lower with each step on the stairs. “Cut some dirt, will you!”

“Hey, I’m going as fast as I – oh.” Suddenly, Chuck went quiet on the stairs. Why the hell wasn’t he moving?

“Hey, Harvard!” Casey called down the stairs. “Let me remind you. I know eleven ways to kill you from here. And if I don’t see that key now, I’ll do it. I swear I will!”

The silence was powerful. It took a good ten seconds for Chuck to work a word out of his mouth.

“Uh-oh,” Casey heard him say.

“Son of a -” As he searched for his calm, Casey’s jaw tightened. “That had better be a good uh-oh, princess!”

“Um.” Chuck’s head popped out from the opening as he hurried up the steps again. “I’m not sure how to say this ....”

“Where’s the goddamn key?” Outside, the deep thumping of hooves became louder, far more sinister. “I told you to go get it!”

“That’s the problem.”

“You lost it?” Casey asked between his teeth.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Chuck scrubbed a hand through his hair, a gesture Casey had come to recognize as jangling nerves while sorting through a problem. “I know where it is.”

Casey sent him an arch look. “Then shut up and go get it.”

“And there lies the problem.” Now Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned. “It won’t do any good.”

“Why not?”

“That’s – that’s what I was fixing for the sheriff. The handcuffs.”

“Let me guess. These handcuffs.” Casey shook them angrily, pain be damned.

“I – well. Y-yes.” Chuck held up a hand to ward off the yelling. “You see, the way they work is that they’re two little pins inside that will turn the cylinder. But in this case, one of the pins was worn down, and after Morgan got chained to the turnip wagon, it –”

“You know what, kid? I changed my mind. Don’t bring me the key. Bring me my gun – so that I can shoot you!”

“It was an honest mistake!”

“How in the hell did you think I was going to get them off?”

Chuck looked from Casey’s face, down his torso, his gaze settling lower before he suddenly became interested in staring at his own bare feet. “I didn’t think you’d mind ... waiting for me to fix them ... after.”

Casey heaved a breath. Fighting with the kid right now would only lose more time. “Find something to pick them. One of your tools.”

Instead of heading to the stairs, Chuck crossed the room to the window again.

“Where are you going?”

“They’re closer now,” Chuck answered. “I want to see if I recognize them.” It mildly impressed Casey that he peered through the slit of an opening between the wall and the curtain this time instead of lifting it. “I mean, what if it’s Morgan and a search party?”

“Because our luck is way worse than that, boyo.”

“Then maybe it’s time for it to change, isn’t it? Maybe God will stop laughing at us – oh. Who is ..?” Chuck hesitated at the window, staring out, and his hand slipped to his side. Not in relief, Casey noticed, but like a man who had the life and breath sapped out of him,

“What do you see?” Casey asked.

“God is still laughing at us.” Inexplicably, the kid turned around and rested his back against the wall, closed his eyes. “I’ll never question you again, John.”

Casey squinted across the room at him. There had to be a good reason the blood had drained out of Chuck’s face. Whoever was approaching across the meadow didn’t come to bring a welcoming gift. Unless bullets counted.

“Focus, Chuck! I said get something to pick the lock. Liam will kill us both if you don’t find a way to unfasten these.”

Chuck stayed frozen save for the shaky breath he expelled. “Please stop yelling –”

“I am ordering you not to have one of those attacks!” Casey barked. “Go!”

Visibly bracing himself, Chuck pushed off the wall and ran to the stairs. “Okay, okay.” By the time he got to the ladder, he slowed down. A few steps later, Chuck stopped dead. Something tumbling around in his head made him turn to look at Casey with those kicked-puppy eyes. “No ... it’s better if you just stay here and be quiet.”

“What?” Casey searched his face, easily catching the direction of his crazy thoughts. “Like hell I’ll stay here and let them take you!”

“It is better. Please, trust me on this.”

“Goddammit, kid,” Casey hissed. “I am not going to lay here and do nothing while you go down there.”

“They won’t kill me. They’ll see you as expendable.”

“No.” Casey found he had to look towards the window to say his next words. Only because he couldn’t stand to watch the hurt in Chuck’s dark eyes, even when the kid moved closer to the bed. “I worked too hard, gave up too damn much to get this far,” he growled, his throat burning. “I won’t sit back and do nothing.”

“You’re right.” Chuck shook his head at him, a sad smile crossing his face. “Sorry, John.”

“Sorry for wh –” Just a flash in front of his eyes said trouble. Whatever was shoved between his teeth, it stunk like dirty boots. That was just one more reason to pull out each of his pubic hairs with rusty pliers after he got out of these cuffs. “Grrrrph!”

“Can you – wow – that’s angry.”

“Wuffa fuck!” Casey tried to swing a leg out and trap him, but the kid jumped like a scared rabbit. The little sneak – oh, he is so dead meat – moved over to stand by the headboard, safely out of reach of Casey’s thighs. “Wuffar yof dof?!”

“I know what I’m doing.” The kid straightened, shooting a look at his own hands. But honestly, Casey never saw a man more spooked than Chuck was when he finally peered down at him. No matter how hard he tried to look brave, Casey saw the kid’s hands shake. “Quiet. Please?”

“Stoph!” Casey moved his hands to grab him, shake him, strangle him though he could only reach a few inches without the metal digging into his wrists. He jerked his hands. The headboard creaked, didn’t give. Why did that naïve moron think Liam wouldn’t come up here a put a bullet in his head if he found him? “Donfu dare!”

“Be good.” Everything would be all right. Chuck’s voice, almost a murmur, sent a ripple of response through Casey. Nervous as hell, the kid pushed a hand through his sweaty hair, leaned down against his immobilized lover, pressed his lips to Casey’s cheek. His temple, then brushing over his hair. Reassuring kisses that made Casey want to punch through the floor and ceiling and him.

“God, John,” Chuck said, laughing a bit, though the noise was flat and hollow. “Don’t be mad.” He stroked along his arms, all the way up, and gripped his wrists just below the cuffs with hot palms, as if he was bound there with him.

Casey was breathing hard, but Chuck’s sudden stillness made him stop struggling against something he was never going to break out of anyway. Inclining his head, he got a look. A look into his Fate, his life without Chuck. It kept him frozen, feeling Chuck move his mouth to nuzzle his ear.

When the kid spoke, his dark eyes were hidden, and the loss made his voice shake. “I love you,” Casey heard.

And then the idiot took the steps two at a time, vanishing underneath him.

-x-End Chapter Eighteen Sins Fell Angels-x-


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Nineteen

-x-

Casey wasn’t waiting for the warning shots to the kid’s head.

He wasn’t waiting for his young lover to rethink his actions, no matter how risky they were or how they’d get him either kidnapped, beaten – or a sizable boot up his ass later for this stunt.

And hell, he wasn’t even considering lying there quietly, like a good boy with a rag stuffed between his teeth and cuffed to a bed while the doe-eyed man who had just sucked his cock and told him he loved him got thrashed and thrown onto the back of a horse.

He wasn’t about to pull in his horns. Not if he still had a jug-full of a chance to do something about it.

Ears ringing with the pounding of horse’s hooves, Casey tipped his head to glance at the headboard, gauging how he’d do this without damaging the hands that would be holding a gun in less than a minute from now. Already, there was a thin bracelet of blood around each wrist from his pulling and wrestling with the metal rings.

He momentarily rolled his eyes at his own idiocy. Lot of good tugging on the cuffs will do. Reflexes urged it, but cold logic told him the only way to free himself was to break the stubborn headboard’s slats where the cuffs were looped, held by a span of three vertical boards.

Casey braced himself, hardening every arm muscle, and yanked.

The headboard bent inward and cracked, a broken shard from one slat pointed jagged-edged at the ceiling.

Christ. Still no good. For his efforts, his only reward had been the cuffs cutting deeper into his flesh. The other slats had held.

“Fuff!” He yanked again, grunting. Why the fuck would that kid have a sturdy bed? Son of a bitch! He had never even figured out how to use the damn thing until Casey came along.

Casey groaned at his shitty luck and gave a quick look towards the window. The stomping had slowed, meaning the men were approaching more cautiously, most likely catching sight of the kid by now.

Well, what he had wasn’t going to end with an impulsive mistake like this. He’d survived by miraculous odds up until today. There was too much shit to stir up in his head right now, but he liked to think he had more rounds in him.

Casey stiffened, held his breath, and put all the dead-quiet rage in his chest into the next pull.

The headboard cracked and buckled, giving away some of its strength. He noticed a split underneath the darker surface of the boards where the fresh wood poked through. Close, no dice.

He figured the next shot at it would do the job. It was also going to hurt like all fucking hell, but that wasn’t the point.

Casey clenched his shoulders and arms, closed his eyes, and rocked into one powerful insistent pull.

Ker-chunk.

The headboard obliged by snapping into pieces.

Pain shot up his arms and his wrists were burning like a brand. He was right, and oh God, it did hurt like hell. No time to piss about it. One smashing heartbeat later, Casey swung out of the bed, his bare feet hitting the plank floor, and he didn’t feel a damn thing any longer. Unless breathing fury counted.

Later, when he sorted out this mess, it would bother him that part of his fury was aimed at a curly-haired moron whose bare ass wasn’t going to be worth a hill of beans after this stupid stunt!

He tore the cloth from his mouth. Okay, fuck. Breathe. Can’t kill him if they’re both dead.

Casey’s eyes darted down to the floor. Though it would slow him down by about twenty seconds, the first order of business was clear. Get some damn pants on. He wasn’t about to send a few men to their Maker with nothing but a rifle in his hand and his cock pointing north. Besides, catching a man with his pants down had a way of pilfering his menace, like a cowboy wearing a petticoat.

Snatching his blue jeans off the floor, Casey began stuffing one leg in before he realized he was hampered. He held up his hands in front of him. A chunk of the headboard and several slats dangled from the cuffs. The bed had given way, but now he was going to have to drag along another piece of wood while being shackled during a gunfight.

“Ah, hell.” There was no time to mess with it. “You forgot the cuffs were broken, genius?” Casey muttered, awkwardly stuffing his other leg into the pants. The chain length gave him about a foot of play between his hands. Enough to pull the trigger. “I might have to forget you’re too old for a whipping.”

It took a bit of coordination, but he hopped on one foot while tucking himself in and buttoning the fly. Even if he had time to scoop up his shirt and slide it on - which he didn’t, the sounds of hooves were in the yard now – his chained wrists made it impossible. Leaving behind his boots and anything else that wouldn’t help him blow a hole through those owl hoots, he scooped up his Colt and his rifle, stuffed all his pockets with ammo, and clambered down the narrow stairs.

The second his feet hit the floor, his heart thumping, Casey pivoted and crossed the room over to the cabin’s front door. His test was to restrain himself from bursting through it with guns snapping off shots like fireworks. The heart pulled, the brain punched it down.

Think it’s a good idea running headlong into a shoot-out with the kid standing dead center?

Collecting his more prudent instincts, Casey slanted his head towards the door, listening. “Tell me what you see,” he said, hoping only Chuck could hear him.

With the devil’s timing, Chuck spoke. “That’s – that’s close enough!” Fear leaked from his voice. “And please put your guns down! You have me outnumbered seven to one. You – you can see ... I’m not armed.”

“Hate to be the one to break the news, cupcake,” Casey said from behind the door as he slid a few bullets into the chamber. “They’re not worried about your marksmanship.”

Even so, he had confirmed Casey’s hunch. Liam always brought a few extra hands to do the dirty work. Hell, for years, he was one of them.

The men spoke to him in low voices, one sounding more detached than the others. The clopping had slowed. Judging volume, they were still in the further reaches of the yard.

There was no point in dragging this out or letting them get any closer. The prize on the porch, currently standing with his hands in the air, Casey was certain, would be safe no matter what. Liam would end any of those men if they killed his bait with a stray bullet.

So Casey stood a little straighter, tightened every muscle, and kicked the door down. Hard.

“Get down,” he growled without looking towards Chuck.

With that, he led with both guns, a one-handed grip on each and bullets flying. Not letting up on the triggers, he strode over the flattened door and onto the porch.

His brain registered the sight, assessed. A row of stomping, lathered horses had come to a stop just inside the perimeter of the cabin’s yard. Four of the men jolted forward and their hands immediately leapt to their guns, fingers questing for the triggers.

“Hey!” he heard the kid shout. “No shooting!”

If Casey wasn’t busy putting a single bullet hole in the two at each end, he would’ve turned his eye roll on him. At some point, there’d be a long talk with the kid about just shutting up and getting out of the way.

Both of the men on horses let out a yelp. The force of the gunshots flung them backwards and onto the ground. One held his shoulder, screaming for his momma or mercy or some other shit Casey didn’t care about and the other groaned and rolled on his back. That one wasn’t moving as much.

Chuck stood off to his side, not moving, prompting Casey to poke the kid in the ribs. “Get behind that,” he ordered, nodding at the rain barrel that sat at the edge of the porch under the eaves. “Keep your head down!”

“Drop the gun!” one of the men yelled, “or we’ll shoot both of you!” Sounding more desperate, another shouted to his partners, “Reward won’t mean nothing if he kills us!”

There was a heavy silence as the other outlaws considered the risk. “Not the kid,” one growled. “You have your orders. Now get rid of the problem and let’s go.”

The man who had yelled, a slick-haired snot with one long black eyebrow, leveled off his rifle at Casey. “Put it down!”

That act made the next decision easy. Casey had his gun drawn at the one in the center, but he didn’t need to be picky. “Reward delivered,” he said, flicking his aim just to the right.

Two shots rang out in the same split second. One took Greasy Head in the neck, and he went sideways off the horse with a curse.

The other shot exploded in a burst of timber next to Casey’s head. “Shit.” Casey racked the rifle – damn cuffs – and lined up a shot –

“No! Please stop!” Chuck flung himself in front of him, arms flailing. “I – I can’t let you do that!”

“Get back.” Casey gave him a one-armed shove to the porch, keeping his rifle level. “And after this, kid?” he went on in a low voice, “we are going to have a long talk about following orders.”

“No, no, no –”

“Get the fuck down!” Casey settled a foot on Chuck’s thigh and pressed, keeping him from doing anything else insanely stupid.

“Casey, you don’t understand!” Chuck said. As he scrambled to his feet, a bullet slammed into the side of the cabin directly next to Casey’s ear. But instead of getting back down, Chuck snatched the cuff’s chain and held on. “I’m – I’m ordering you to stay behind me, John!”

His voice shook. Maybe the kid was picturing the ten ways to Sunday Casey planned on reminding him of the pecking order when this little charade was over.

“Well, lookit that. Ain’t that just too endearing for words?”

Casey, momentarily resigned to let the kid stand in front of him, shifted his gaze to the piece of shit that was having a good laugh. Rudy.

“Huh. And I thought what I was smelling was the outhouse,” Casey said. “You showing up here does clear up that mystery.”

Rudy scowled and sat up taller in the saddle. His pistol remained pointed in the vicinity of Casey’s head – or the kid’s. Hard to tell since he was nearly on top of him, arms spread. “Drop your guns,” the skinny outlaw said. “I can make it easier on ya if just give up now, Johnnie.”

Casey just laughed, adjusted his stance, and whipped his arm up hard enough to break out of Chuck’s hold on the chain. Now with some freedom of movement, he easily picked off the one on the end who looked like he was ready to risk coming up along the side of the porch.

“Ah! Fuck!” The man howled and grabbed his stomach, blood already leaking between his fingers. It took a few seconds longer for him to fall to the ground, caterwauling like a Tom cat in heat. “Forget the kid standing in front of him! Shoot the bastard, Rudy!”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Casey said, shifting his aim at Rudy and the man on the other side of their leader. “You know I can take that shot before either of you move.”

“No guns!” Chuck said, nearly tripping when Casey tried to elbow him again. The little shit seemed to take advantage of the fact that Casey couldn’t put too much of his arms into a push, or he’d break the line of sight he had on both targets. The second he recovered his balance, Chuck put all his weight on Casey’s chest, giving his full strength to hold him back. “You stay behind me.”

“Are you trying to get killed?” Casey said through tight lips. “Because when this is over, princess, I may just -”

“If – if you just put your guns down,” Chuck called out to the men, ignoring Casey’s hot breath on his neck, “I might consider cooperating with you -”

“Like hell you will,” Casey growled against his ear.

“- but you have to give me your word that my ... friend will be able to get on his horse and leave ... peacefully.”

The men stilled, though Casey knew they weren’t considering the offer. They wanted him dead. The Chairman of Black Rock wanted him dead. It was only a matter of time, Casey figured, until he had to look Liam in the eyes. He’d have to face his own betrayal of the man, no matter how righteous his motives.

As if hearing Casey’s thought, the figure in the meticulous black wool coat and bowler hat – emblematic for Liam, outlandish for the hellish trip here – moved his head to the side to peer at him.

Casey’s eyes shifted and raked over his boss, pausing at the lack of a sidearm. His curious gaze went back to the Liam’s face.

“ ... the hell.”

The strange man in the center simply turned to Chuck and murmured, “Hello, Charles.”

Casey stared over at the popinjay who looked like he belonged in New York City, and then turned the squint on his young lover. A bead of sweat slid down the kid’s brightly flushed cheeks.

“I know who that piece of buffalo turd is,” Casey said deathly quiet, used the barrel to point at Rudy, “but mind telling me, boyo, who the fuck is that?”

“Charming, Charles.” The man sniffed and drew a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his forehead. He looked unaccustomed to perspiring. “Where did you pick this one up? Bottom of a pond?”

Chuck stretched his arms out wide. His hands were shaking. “Um, Casey, I want you to meet my ... f-father.”

Casey grunted, cocked the hammer of his Colt, and moved his aim to the bowler hat. A bullet fell into the cylinder with a click. “Yeah? My pleasure. Daddy.”

The dark-haired man arched a brow at Casey. His open examination was a reminder to the larger man of what he had shoved to the back of his mind. Things like his present appearance.

Damn. Without making a point of looking down, a quick mental inventory recapped the evidence. Standing there, he was cuffed with an obvious piece of a headboard wound between his wrists, not to mention bare-chested, hair tousled, and damn it: he might’ve missed a few buttons of his fly on the way down the stairs.

It’d look quite condemning except that he didn’t give a fuck.

Casey was able to track the father’s thoughts by the way his face screwed up, first at him, and then at his not-so-innocent son. “Hm. Interesting choice ... Charles.”

The two men flanking him on horses laughed. “Didn’t catch you at a bad time, did we?”

“As a matter of fact, your timing’s perfect.” Casey reached past Chuck to take aim. “We were getting ready to play ‘shoot the arse off a horse.’”

The man glowered and turned to his partner. “At least he doesn’t have to worry about the French pox with that boy, eh, Clay?”

“Go to hell,” Chuck said in a mumble, leaning backwards into Casey’s torso. His arms remained outspread, making it clear his shirt was half-buttoned and fluttering in the breeze, accentuating his lean body. Being behind him, Casey got a good view of the back of his neck, beet red with discomfort ... or maybe shame had something to do with it.

“Your man’s charm is contagious, I see,” his father said in a droll voice. “And I also see that being out in the,” and he paused to glance around at the cabin and barn, “fresh air has not cured you of your disease.”

“It’s not a disease.” Chuck hands briefly balled into fists. Honestly, Casey couldn’t blame him for wanting to deck the arrogant prick.

“Charles, look at you,” his father said. “You were ... the perfect son. Compatible with great things.”

Casey’s teeth ground together. The old man was talking about that thing in his head.

“There was nothing great about it from my end, dad.”

“Tsk. Let’s make this easy, son. Tell me you’ll come back home. To Boston. I can ... get you the best doctors. They can fix you. We both know you’re destined for prodigious things. Not this.” Mr. Adams – Casey remembered the kid finally telling him his real name - cast his gaze at him and smirked. “Not that. Obviously, you’ve been manipulated by this ... grizzly bear.”

“Stop ....” Chuck reached down, caught hold of Casey’s waist, anchoring himself against the hurt flung at him. “I haven’t been manipulated by anyone. Now, please. Just ... go away.”

“Son, listen to me.” His father’s shoulders went stiff, his attention fastened solely on Chuck. “That man is not worth -”

“You can only fix what’s broken ....” Chuck’s hand still rested on Casey. The touch of skin to skin seemed to brace him. “And that’s not me. I’m not the damaged one, dad.”

“And you’re not staying here, Charles. I’m your father, and I’m ordering you to -”

“Order? That’s it. Enough bullshit.” Casey fired his Colt in the air. As the shot rang out, he eyed the startled men to ensure he had captured their attention, and then gave a flick of the muzzle towards the ridge. “Frankly, dad, this conversation is boring the fuck out me. So unless you have something worthwhile to say, I’m going to ask you politely,” and he emphasized the point with a nod at the barrel of his gun, “to turn those horses around and get the hell out of here.”

Mr. Adams bristled and turned a dismissive set of eyes on Casey. “May I ask, who are you?”

“Leave,” Casey answered.

“You don’t understand, laddie.” Rudy riveted his eyes to Casey while his horse stamped impatiently. “Mr. Adams is here to collect his boy – and we’re here to make sure that happens.”

“Where’s Liam?” Casey asked, keeping his gun leveled at the kid’s father.

Rudy smiled, showing a row of teeth that matched the flesh of rotten apples. “He got a telegram that the meeting with Mr. Adams was moved to Canon City. I reckon he’s there now, waiting at the Grand Union Hotel for those two dirty sots to show up with the kid. Funny, ain’t it, how that never happened. You know anything about that, Johnnie?”

“Maybe they got lost,” Casey said. It sounded much cleaner than saying they were buried under the oak tree behind the barn. If they weren’t in Hell, maybe they’d be thankful it wasn’t the pig pen that Jo had suggested. “Looks like you did, too.”

“Naw, this is exactly where we’re supposed to be,” Rudy said, and that little skunk actually had the audacity to sound gleeful. “The message was from me. A way to divert Liam and get him out of the way.”

“You did that, eh?” Casey had to bite down on his lip. “Thought that all up on your own?”

“Yeah, damn right. I also sent a message to Mr. Adams here, saying I would be able to track his boy down and deliver him without having to do business with Liam. Hell, I only want the cash I deserve!”

“And you’ll get it,” Mr. Adams told him. “If you do your job.”

Rudy snagged his eyes on Casey. “Well, when those two dogs didn’t meet me in Canon City with the kid in tow?” He gestured with the barrel of his gun around the farm and chuckled. “I knew where he’d be. I was here the first time we took the little bastard.”

“He was one of them.” Chuck breathed it out, held his tense body closer to Casey’s.

“Knew it’d be you here, too,” Rudy added, showing that some of the teeth had wormholes. “All cozy-like, eh?”

“Horseshit,” Casey said. Challenging him would keep the twit talking. “You came in blind and stupid. Like usual.”

“Think so?” Rudy snickered. “You took really good care of that boy when we dragged him back, didn’t you, Johnnie? A fine job you had with him. And you know what? I got the funniest feeling about it. Like you knew that lost boy ... and that you were protecting him. From his dad. And from Liam.”

Later, when they were safe again under blankets warmed by the heat of their skin, and that same long, rangy body was pressed to his, Casey would have time to consider being called out for a weakness. Worse that it was true. Why had he been a bit sloppier and riskier than he ever had been before?

“So you double-crossed Liam?” Casey asked, mechanically tightening his grip on the gun.

“I like to think of it as out-maneuvered to cut a deal – fair and square,” Rudy said. “I’ve been his bag man for too long. Time for me to get my piece of the – what the hell is so funny?” Rudy’s face screwed up in a frown, because the end of his argument was drowned out by Casey’s deep, low laugh.

“You, you dumb shit,” Casey answered, still chuckling. “I really wanted to just shoot you today and end this little game you’ve got going. But I think I’m going to give Liam the honors of tracking you down and reminding you why you never cross a poisonous snake.”

“Hell, he’ll never find me –”

“Shut up.” Casey’s jaw tightened. “Not only will he find you, we both know Liam’s got a creative tendency to draw it out. Heap on some suffering until you wish he’d just get it over with.”

Rudy glared, but the fact that he swallowed nervously wasn’t lost on Casey.

“And you’re going to wish I was the one who took care of it,” Casey finished.

“You’re outnumbered,” reputed the third man still on a horse, flanking the kid’s dad. Casey didn’t recognize him, figuring Rudy had bribed the scamp for the promise of a measly cut of pay. “Git out from behind that kid, and I’ll show you who else knows a thing or two about talking iron.”

“Casey, if you move,” Chuck hissed, screwing up his courage though sweat had plastered his shirt to his back. “I’ll ... I’m going to ... well, okay, I will be very, very angry with you.”

Casey made a noise deep in his chest, solely for the kid’s benefit. So this is what it felt like to be the princess in need of being rescued. Essentially the same as having his balls lopped off. Not a feeling he enjoyed.

“Bartowski.” Casey used his alias, more to piss off the dad than anything. “Just get out of the way. I’ve got this.”

“You do? Really?” Chuck turned his head and raised his brows sarcastically until they disappeared under his hairline. “Because this looks like the epitome of not –”

“Where is it, Charles?” Mr. Adams interrupted, and his eyes settled squarely on his son. “Before we drag you out of this ... hell hole and dispense with the man behind you, tell me.” His voice turned colder. “Where is ... it?”

Casey’s eyes narrowed. Up until that second, he assumed what the man wanted was stuck in that kid’s head. Why would he have to ask?

“I – I don’t have it.”

Casey backed up a step, staring at the messy dark curls and wondering what the hell he had missed.

“Please, Charles, do you think I’m an idiot? It disappeared with you.”

“I have no idea what –”

“Oh, bullshit,” his father snarled. “What you have is obviously intact, and I’m pleased to have it back in my possession. But we both know that the ... original is the only thing that guarantees perpetuation.” He set his hands on the saddle horn, looking as calm as a man in the front pew. “Answer me. What have you done with it? I don’t think you’re foolish enough to destroy it. Or are you?”

“It’s gone.” Chuck stood taller. “Just like me, father.”

Mr. Adams fiddled with the leather strap in his hand. “My son is a terrible liar,” he said to his companions without breaking eye contact with the kid. “He has it. He knows where it is. We’re going to tear this place apart to find it.”

The pronouncement made Casey’s arm snap straight, gun aimed at the father’s head. “Anyone who decides to get off their horse is dead.”

“Oh, I almost forgot about my son’s ... plaything.” Mr. Adams smiled coolly and turned to the other two. “Charles is a useful tome without his limbs working, if that’s his choice. In fact, it may prevent any events like this in the future.”

“Wh-what!” Chuck’s knees nearly dissolved but Casey grabbed his waist and held on. “My –”

“So you have my permission to use any means necessary to get him out of the way.” In the father’s eyes, Casey saw he was being drawn into a contest of wills. “Shoot him in the leg if you have to. Take him.” He flicked a hand as if swatting a bug. “Oh. And kill the big one.”

“But - the big one is my boyfriend!”

“Wonderful. Good for you, son.” The father sighed and simply turned to Rudy. “Kill the boyfriend.”

Chuck froze in place with his back to him; Casey had no idea what his expression would be, but when he spoke his voice sounded like it came from the bottom of a barrel. “You ... you can’t ....”

“Oh, hell,” Casey said. He will. The larger man watched in every absurd facet, as if reality disconnected itself and the world moved in a jar of molasses, when the two men flanking his father raised their pistols, aiming them at Chuck, at Casey.

He’d need two perfect shots within the next half second. If even one of them missed and the men in front of them didn’t, Chuck would be as good as maimed.

Casey was vaguely aware that his body made the decision before his brain caught up.

He brought his cuffed hands up and over the kid’s head. Something was in his arms, something he grabbed around the middle, something slender yet hard and wiry. Somewhere, he heard Chuck yell. He felt himself stumble over a bucket, his foot dragging, but it didn’t seem to matter because Casey put all his force into propelling the kid backwards at a frightening speed, hitting the frame of the window before he slammed his back into the pane of glass.

Casey, and then Chuck, exploded through it, the window shattering all around them.

“Holy sh –” Chuck yelped, the hold around his chest making it impossible to do anything but follow.

One bullet split the logs next to the empty space where the window had been a second ago. Another zinged by Casey’s head and embedded in the wall behind them with a ping.

He would never recall precisely how it happened, save they were both falling through the opening and there was only so much backward momentum before they’d hit the floor.

The impact of his bare back smacking the planks and shattered glass hurt like hell. Having the kid land on top of him doubled the brunt force of the crash landing. Inside the cabin, everything around him was darker and blurry for a flash. Casey shook his head and blinked away the pinpoints of light swimming in front of his eyes.

The long skinny frame sprawled out on top of him twitched. Chuck’s entire body was shaking, huge quivers that had nothing to do with being yanked through a window and landing inside his house in a puddle of glass.

And it wasn’t over yet, Casey knew. Bullets flew through the opening and ricocheted off of the iron stove, smashed jars and tore into the log walls.

Casey unwrapped his arms from Chuck’s middle, lifted his chained wrists over his head, and briefly set the guns down on the floor. “You okay?”

Panic made the kid suck in an instinctual gasp. When he realized he was perched on top of Casey’s chest, he tried to scramble away. “What – what happened?!”

“Chuck. Relax.” Casey sat up and put a hand on the kid’s hip, keeping him from climbing over the glass. “Do that, and your feet will get cut to ribbons. Watch it.”

Chuck blinked heavily and rubbed his hands on his scalp. “Why did you do that? I – had it under control! Okay, sort of, but I was getting there!”

“Yeah? Control, huh? Don’t even think you’re off the hook yet.”

“Yes, sir,” Chuck said grumpily, now massaging his own back. “Oh, God ....”

“Over there, away from the window. Let’s move. They’ll only be stunned by that stupid stunt for another minute or two before they find another way inside. I’d rather not be sitting ducks.”

“Is it just me, or do I already feel that way?!”

“Can it, princess.” Casey was already squirming out from under him. As soon as he was free, he unceremoniously picked up the kid by the waist and hauled him across the floor, finding a safe place to dump him away from the window. “You. Stay,” the larger man said, stabbing a finger at the kid. The unfriendly motion caused the piece of headboard strung on the chain to wobble, and it took everything in him for Casey not to be pissed about that again. “Don’t even think about moving unless I say move.”

-x-  
It was unreal. It was still there, the way his father looked at him like he wasn’t human, like he would always disappoint.

“Don’t,” Chuck told himself. “Don’t think it.” He pressed his back against the wall and brought his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself a smaller target. His heart battered the inside of his ribcage, threatening to rip through his chest.

This could be considered terrible timing, he knew, to have one of his humiliating spells, but the lack of oxygen in the cabin made his limbs feel like lead and his head light.

So this is what it felt like to get shot at again.

Great. That spell he was fighting called up to him, stretching its tentacled fingers, tried to drag him down by the feet.

Chuck told it to shut up.

Instead, he dug his fingernails into his palm and watched, detached and floating, as his boyfriend ducked under the window and filled the chamber of his Colt. Something caught Casey’s attention. Slinking over the floor, he picked up a piece of broken decorative mirror and held it up at an angle at the side of the window. The reflection caught the sunlight and flittered over the walls.

“Casey, what – what are they doing?”

“One got too close.” Without sticking his head up, Casey leveled the Colt out the window and took a shot. “Little bastard. Missed that one.”

Chuck almost didn’t hear a shout and a horse neigh and stomp, competing with the swishing noise filling his ears. “Oh, crap,” he said, feeling his breathing pick up. “My father’s here. He found me.”

“Hey. Hey!” Casey’s voice broke through the fog. When Chuck bobbed his head over, he saw his partner had a narrow look pointed at him. “You okay? You didn’t get hurt did you?”

“I - landed on top of you,” Chuck said, noticing a jar of his preserved peaches – a barter from Mrs. Mollenhoff - running down a shelf, blobs pooling. Kind of like his stomach felt. “I should be asking you – are you okay?”

Casey stretched one leg so that he could dig into his pocket. He pulled out more ammunition and the chamber rattled as he stuffed the bullets inside. “Want to help?”

“Me? I – I guess so.”

“First, I want to hear you breathe. Deep breaths.” Casey thumbed the last bullet in the slot and closed the cylinder. “Do it.”

“I look that bad, huh?”

“Didn’t sound like a deep breath, brown eyes.”

“Okay, okay.” Chuck looked down at his bare feet, put his forehead on one kneecap, and concentrated on breathing. He felt like an idiot, but after a minute, the room wasn’t floating quite as badly. “Please let us live please make him go away ....” he mumbled between inhalations. “Big ... bad dream, okay?”

Casey sat up and crept over closer to him. “There’re other things you could be doing besides babbling to yourself. Still wanna help?”

Chuck sagged back against the wall and worked up a nod. “Yes. But I’m not very good at this.”

“I’ll start with something simple.” Casey held up his fettered wrists. “Keep low and find anything you can to either break the lock or snap the chain.”

“Tool chest,” Chuck said automatically, and hauled himself onto his knees. The worn wooden box sat on the bottom shelf of his bookcase and not exactly easy to get to, even with gangly limbs in his favor. Between him and it, the floor was littered with glass and bits of smashed wood and logs, several broken crocks. And most notably, stray bullets. “Oh, God. Over there?”

“Put your head down and get crawling.” Casey motioned with the gun, having no idea how intimidating that was. “You’re safe if you stay down and avoid the glass, but I’ll keep them busy for the next minute or so.”

“Casey, I’m sorry for - being pathetic right now. I, uh, is it dangerous over there –”

“Move it!” Casey barked.

“Okay, moving, moving ....” Obediently – and more importantly, wanting to get out of the way of Casey when he had that look in his eyes – the kid crossed the floor on his hands and knees, trying to avoid the shards of glass. “Okay ... here I am ... reaching for the tool box ... still alive.” He flipped it open and began pawing through the hand tools. “Let’s see. Long ... skinny?”

“You’re gonna get long and hard in a minute!” Casey said. A bullet sailed through the opening and clanged off a cast iron pan. “Not the time to be picky, kid! Just grab whatever you think will work, and get back here!”

“Um, pliers or monkey wrench?”

“How the fuck would I know! Now!”

“Okay, both, then.” The kid, cringing at another shot that flew through the window, snatched the bulbous maple handle of an awl, and then scooped up whatever else he could grab in the next two seconds. “Chisel, screwdriver – steel cutter – wait, what?”

If Casey wasn’t holding two guns, Chuck was certain he’d slap a hand on his forehead. “Harvard, don’t make me wish I would’ve left you out there. Now, do you think you can bring that last one over here? Pretty please?”

“Got it.” Chuck crawled over with the steel cutter’s handle between his teeth. Rather than return to the corner where Casey had tossed him, he scuttled over one of Casey’s legs and sat between his knees. “Okay, here.”

Casey took one look at the tool and groaned. “You do realize that it’s theoretically possible for me to put my foot up your ass and still be able to shoot a gun?”

“What?”

“Think about it, kid.” Casey held up his chained wrists, managing to make even that simple gesture ooze with sarcasm. “Now get cutting.”

Chuck gaped. “I’m not taking a saw anywhere near you! My hands are shaking. See?” He held one of them up. “What if I slip – crap!”

A bullet passed through the window and decorated his wall with another hole.

“Bartowski, so help me, if you don’t get sawing on this, your biggest problem will be trying to sit down with a stinging ass!”

“What do you – oh.” Suddenly his cheeks burned wildly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Heh. Someday you’ll learn, pancake. There’re a few things you never say to me.” Casey took a break from reloading to give Chuck a mischievous smirk, his eyes equally curious and amused. “Reddening right up, too. I’ll remember that when we’re out of here, eh?”

“Geez! All right. I’ll do it.” Chuck sat up a little on his knees and carefully positioned the saw, trying to calm his shaking hands. “Just don’t blame me if I chop off something by accident, okay!”

Hearing that, they both looked down at the spread of Casey’s thighs. The steel cutter, in a very wobbly hand, hovered about a foot away from a place Chuck had no intention of chopping.

“Oh, no,” Chuck said.

“Just hold it steady, kid. You’ll be fine. You’ve got good hands.” Casey spread his wrists. “And in this case, motivation not to screw up.”

“But what if I -?”

“You won’t. Now get working that thing. They must be reloading or strategizing. Either way, the quiet’s not a good sign. Gotta get out of these.”

“Okay .. Chuck ... free the terrifying man ... so he can shoot people – oh, God.”

“Always talk to yourself like that?”

“Only when I’m using cutters next to my boyfriend’s equipment.”

“Happen a lot, tiger?”

“First time, actually.”

“Aim straight, or it’ll be the last.”

“Oh, no.” Chuck lowered the cutters over the extended chain – gently, gently – and began carefully sawing at it. “Here ... I ... go.”

“Bartowski?”

“Yeah?”

“How about this,” Casey said, deadpan. “You might find this works out better for all of us if you open your fucking eyes.”

“What – what if there’s blood?!”

Casey tilted an eyebrow. “You never have been rightly spanked, have you?”

“Okay, the saw is moving ... back and forth. See?”

Casey made a “heh” noise and left it at that.

Chuck chose to focus on the task at hand rather than the lewd meaning behind that sound. “Almost there ... hold it tight ... please.”

“God, just –” There was a snap and clank. As soon as the blade sliced through the metal, severing the chain, Casey sprang into action. “You. Over there. Out of the way.”

“Hey! That worked!” Chuck blinked at the cutters in his hand and let relief flood him. “What – what else can I do to help?”

“I don’t know, Bartowski. Maybe I need to be left chained to a bed again.”

“Still bitter, I see,” Chuck grumbled, cautiously slithering around the broken glass. When he reached the corner, he sunk his back against the wall and pointed a perturbed look at his lover. “Here’s another way to consider it, Casey. They were going to kill you! I had to go out there. They weren’t going to hurt me. And if I didn’t jump in front –”

“Don’t need you to save me, kid,” Casey cut in sharply.

Chuck really wanted to beg to differ, but he was already in hot water. “Maybe I need you to save me – and you can’t do that if you’re dead.”

“So just give them what they want?” Casey had a few choice words for that bit of logic before he slipped into Gaelic, most likely piling it on.

“Are you done yet?” Chuck finally asked. “Because I’m going to bet those aren’t even physically possible for someone of my, um, manly physique.”

“We’ll see, won’t we, sport,” Casey muttered. After one more glare, he stood, drew his weapon, and poked his head around the edge of the window frame. The fact that he didn’t duck back for cover in a jiffy told Chuck a change in their tactics caught his attention.

“What do you see?”

“Rudy and your father moved away from the house. Out by the barn.”

“What are they talking about?”

“Oh, hell, I don’t know. Maybe they like what you’ve done with the place, princess. Maybe your daddy wants to redo his mansion in Newport with a dash of humble farmer. So they’re picking out paint colors.”

“I – I don’t think I can handle your cynicism right now.”

Casey moved to the side of the window, back to the wall, and looked at him in a way that made Chuck want to hunch over in a smaller ball. “Mind telling me what your father meant out there? I thought what he wanted was here,” and Casey paused to tap his own temple before gesturing at the kid, “but he wants something else. Besides you. What the hell are you not telling me?”

“Um ... well – I don’t really –”

“Don’t you dare try to finish that sentence,” Casey said without batting an eye. He crossed over to him, ignoring the pieces of glass underfoot, and crouched down next to Chuck’s legs. “Look at me.”

If blue ice could burn, that would be the color. How a man who was still shirtless, sweat glistening, barefoot and with two cuffs dangling around his wrists could be that intimidating, the kid had no idea. He only wished he had a place to hide that was bigger than the corner he found himself trapped in.

The nerves eating at him made Chuck dart a look to the side, away from his gaze. “You’re doing that growling thing,” he said. “It seems a little harsh to direct it at your boyfriend, that’s all.”

“Harsh?” Laying his hand on Chuck’s face, Casey cupped his jaw, fingers touching the dark stubble. When he then increased the pressure to steer his head up, the kid had no choice but to stare into his eyes.

“You’re a bit grabby – has anyone ever told you that?”

Casey stared. The hold on his jaw remained lock-tight.

Chuck folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, you have my attention.”

“Words are just like some fancy feathers to you, aren’t they, kid?” Casey leaned in, fitting his thighs between Chuck’s knees, and at once his thick aroma was in the kid’s nose. “Pretty. Soft. But when it comes down to it, they seem to get caught in the wind and just blow away. I’m finding out more and more that sometimes they don’t mean shit with you.”

“What?” Chuck couldn’t move his jaw, so he had to demonstrate his annoyance with his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, eh? Seems I’ll have to remind you.” Casey drew back some, studying his face. “Wasn’t it just a few days ago that you pulled up stakes and lit out with me to get away from Liam’s? I asked you if you trusted me. And you said you did. The way I remember, you had some nice, flowery words for me. Jesus. I even liked the way you could say it, boy – but I guess you managed to bamboozle even me.”

“Please, I’m not trying to –”

“Stop.” Casey’s voice was a quiet command. “Say it. What does he want?”

Chuck’s hands clenched, then opened as he let out a breath. It took every bit of willpower not to attempt to dissolve into the wall behind him. Why did Casey have to be an asshole about being right?

“The ... manuscript.”

Casey’s momentary blank look said he was having trouble slotting a stack of paper into a logical place in his brain. When it hit him, he tightened the hold on Chuck’s jaw. “The last night up at the lodge. You told me about ... being able to see ... things.”

Chuck nodded, a bit peeved at the cynical expression. Obviously, John Casey still couldn’t fathom anything that farfetched. “That wasn’t all.”

“It gave you ... abilities.”

“You’re trying to say the Cipher.” Chuck felt the stab of an insult. “And I think I explained that night how it worked. My brain is only ... as simple as the key. The manuscript is the doorway inside.”

Casey looked less than impressed with lame-ass metaphors. “So, it never occurred to you, in all that wisdom you have stuffed up here,” and he brought up a finger to tap the kid’s temple, much harder than he had his own, “that stealing the one thing they want more than this would cause the men –”

“Uh, they call themselves Keepers,” Chuck said, wishing he had kept his mouth shut when Casey looked daggers at him. “And I interrupted. Please. Continue.”

“These ... Keepers to come down on us like hornets from a stirred-up nest?”

“I, ah, didn’t think that minor detail was important,” Chuck said. “Besides, it looked like you had heard all you could handle by then. You looked a little, I don’t know, shaky? Okay. You don’t get shaky. But I decided for you that it could wait.”

Casey swore his opinion of that. “I’ll add it to the list,” he finally bit out.

“List?”

“Things we’re gonna talk about after this little game is over.”

“Oh, fun,” Chuck said.

“For one of us.” After Casey gave his jaw one more warning squeeze, he rose to his feet and strode over to the window. “While they’re out there jawing, get upstairs. We need our boots. If you can find my shirt on the floor, grab that, too.” As an afterthought, he looked down at the kid with a quick, dirty grin. “Though I reckon your daddy just figured out his son’s been doing a little more than fixing his doo-dads and building his flying machine out here. I do believe he’s thinking you’re not the upstanding boy who left Boston, but honestly, cupcake, I like you better this way.”

Chuck glared. “You know what? Maybe it’s my father showing up at my doorstep, or the bullets and near-death situation, but for some odd reason, I’m having a hard time grasping the humor in all of this.”

“Yeah, you’ll be grasping all right,” Casey muttered. “Now get the hell up there before they start unloading their barrels again.”

“Comforting.” But knowing he was in deep shit already, Chuck hustled up the narrow stairs, faster than he thought possible with his barely functional limbs, and returned a minute later with the boots and Casey’s chambray shirt. “Here. It’s, ah, a little wrinkly.”

Casey squinted at him and bit down on the inside of his mouth. “Next time when you’re taking it from me, you shouldn’t leave it on the floor.”

Suddenly, Chuck felt the need to get busy putting his boots on. “Like you complained ....”

“As soon as you get those on your feet,” Casey said, shoving his own boots on, “I want you to see if there’s any extra ammo in the –”

“Mr. Casey,” a civilized voice called from the yard. “A word with you, if you don’t mind.”

Chuck felt his insides shrivel at the genteel request. Would his father always have the power to do that to him?

He finished with the boots and hunched down, closer to the window. “John, he’s ... I know that tone. You can’t ... trust ....”

“Think I don’t know that?” Casey said, and putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder, he pushed him away from the window. “Spent the past twelve years with a scorpion –”

“John Casey,” the kid’s father called again, “we’re putting our weapons down. See for yourself.” From their distance, the sound was muffled, but Chuck guessed it could be guns hitting the dirt. Or a trap. “We want a ... truce. Show your face. I’d like to talk to you.”

“Casey, please be careful –”

“I’m not new at this, kid.” Casey shook his head at him and held out the broken piece of mirror, tilting it to examine the scene out in the yard. “They tossed their guns.” He raised his voice to call out the window, “You should know something. I don’t plan on dropping my weapons.”

“As you like, Mr. Casey. I assure you, if you come out to speak to me, man to man, no one will get hurt.”

“Like hell no one’s gonna get hurt,” Casey whispered, checking the ammo in his Colt.

“Casey, listen to me.” Just the thought of Casey facing off with his father made the kid’s stomach twist in knots. “I don’t think you should –”

Casey held up a hand to shush him and addressed his father. “If it’s a trap, the last thing I’ll do is get off one more shot. And it’s going to be you.”

“I just saw you neutralize four men without breaking a sweat,” Mr. Adams said. “I hardly believe the wisest move would be to doubt you.”

Chuck looked up as his partner began shrugging on his shirt. “I’m going out there,” Casey said. “You. Stay.”

“But - he wants to talk ... to you?”

“So I’ll talk to him.” Casey racked the rifle.

“Are you insane?” Chuck sat up straighter, senses crackling. “You can’t!”

Casey regarded him speculatively for a moment and let out a sigh. “Do I need to tie you down before I walk out of here? Because if you even think of sticking a big toe out onto that porch, I’m gonna tap your ass into next week.” He lowered himself to his haunches, getting into Chuck’s face. “Got that?”

Chuck shook his head slowly and could do nothing but sag backwards into the wall. “Don’t – don’t believe anything he says.”

It was the last thing he expected. Casey brought his hand around his jaw again, gently curling his fingers this time, and took his mouth in a quick kiss. Wet, firm, and it was over before Chuck knew what hit him. When he blinked, Casey was standing up, buttoning the shirt, and the hardened take-no-prisoners demeanor returned.

“Keep down,” he said to Chuck. Adjusting the grip of the Colt in one hand and leveling the rifle in the other, he spoke louder, “I’m coming out.”

Chuck cocked his head towards the window, listening. He could hear Casey’s boots on the porch, the horses moving in closer. Though his arms were wrapped around his knees, he suddenly felt ice climbing down his spine. This was going to spell trouble for someone, he just knew it. Unfortunately, it was usually him, as Casey seemed to know his way around trouble.

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Casey,” he heard his father say. “Your ... former associate here says you’re a man who’s familiar with closing business deals. He says you’ll be willing to barter – if you just hear me out.”

Barter? Chuck sucked in a breath and pushed his back against the wall. Casey didn’t know where the manuscript was stashed.

“Fifty-thousand dollars in bank notes –”

“Fifty?” Rudy blurted. “That’s more’n what you’re giving me!”

“- in exchange for my son.”

Chuck’s mouth fell open. Me? Not the Written Cipher? He could feel cracks splintering through the lid he had slammed over all the ugliness he’d left back in Boston, building up pressure and threatening to blow. Why me?

Casey won’t do it. He won’t.

Would he?

Don’t be an idiot.

Outside the window, it was Casey who finally broke the stillness. “Your son,” he repeated, “and I get to walk away for fifty thousand dollars.”

Chuck’s throat closed up tight.

“Indeed. There’s a bank in that godforsaken town we passed about seven miles back. Between what I have with me and a simple withdrawal, I can have the currency in your hands by nightfall.”

Casey stayed silent for a long pause, contemplating perhaps. The quiet left Chuck with a whorl of confusing emotions in his lower belly.

He wouldn’t.

“I’ll be doing you a favor, John.” His father’s voice sounded flat. “If you’ve spent any time at all with him – and frankly, it ... appears that you have – well, then you already know the boy’s secret.”

“His secret?” Casey ventured as Chuck heard his boots on the porch steps, picturing him measuring each movement like a giant cat. “Why don’t you spit it out.”

“That he’s completely crazy. He thinks men can fly without feathers or wings.” His father made a scoffing noise. “He thinks he has gifts that no one else has. Tell me, John. Did you believe him? Did he manage to pull you in to his little charade? “

“He might’ve mentioned it,” Casey said and left it at that.

“Then you already know the illness that’s taken over his brain. And you should also know that my offer expires in the next minute. So, Mr. Casey, what shall it be? Fifty thousand dollars ... or being chased to the ends of the earth with a sick boy to hold you back?”

“I’m not sick,” Chuck said. Each man jolted and turned to see him step over the threshold, arms raised. How it happened, he had no clue. Maybe it was the absolute insistence in his father’s voice – you’re sick, you’re ill – that had gathered him up to his feet and scrabbling for the doorway.

“Goddamn it, Chuck,” he heard Casey utter, quiet threat lacing his voice. “What did I tell you?”

“Uh-oh.” Immediately, Chuck reminded himself which man in the yard was the most daunting. But he swallowed, which did nothing for his hurting throat, and slowly strolled off the porch. “I know you’re my father, and I should respect you, but honestly? Your fake concern is what makes me sick. We all know what you really want. Nothing’s changed.”

“Tsk, Charles. Unfortunately, that’s true.” He turned his attention to Casey. “Time is running out. I’m sure a man like you could find a way to disappear with that amount of money? Give me my son and this all goes away.”

“Why don’t you get the hell back in the house, kid?” Casey growled under his breath, not looking away from the men on horses. Or I will kill you, his tone clearly implied.

Chuck, standing in the dirt about six feet behind him, dared to glance over at Casey. Even the tendons on the back of his neck seemed angry. Quite a feat, and he’d be impressed if he wasn’t so close to soiling his only decent pair of pants.

“I couldn’t ... let him say those things, John.”

The exasperation within his partner swelled up so fast along his arm muscles that Casey’s knuckles turned white, his grip tightening on the gun handles. “I’ll be reminding you, kid, why that was a piss poor idea,” he said. “Now do as I say, and get your ass inside.”

“What is your decision?” his father asked. His horse began to stomp and swing its head, an extension of his impatience. “Time’s up.”

Casey shrugged. “You’re right. The kid has a sickness.”

“Wait a second – what?” In some corner of his mind that wasn’t drowning in fear, Chuck replayed those words. “I do?” he said when he found his voice. “You think ... that’s there’s something wrong with me?”

“Good,” his father broke in, ignoring Chuck. “Then you understand that he needs to be with his family ... so that we can help cure him.”

Casey’s trigger finger twitched. “Yeah?” he said, edging closer. “That may not help. ‘Cause the way I see it, frankly, the only sickness the kid has is having such a dumbass for a father.”

Chuck’s mouth fell open.

So did his father’s. “You dirty son of a –” He swiveled around to Rudy. “Shoot him.”

“No!” Chuck flinched and covered his ears. The air came to life with gunshots, puncturing the tension with their shock. When he gazed up at his father, the kid saw a look that was either due to the esteemed Mr. Adams being called a rather crude name, or the fact Casey had just ruined a perfectly fine bowler hat with a bullet.

But his expression was thunderous. “You’re an idiot, Mr. Casey.”

“And that was your warning shot,” Casey said, drawing the hammer back again. “Next one goes through your skull. I’ll give you one minute to turn around and get out of here.”

“You have to be insane to walk away from that much money!” Rudy shouted to Casey. “Johnnie, just take it.”

“The one minute includes picking up the trash you left here.” Casey glanced at the injured men in the dirt, one cursing him. “Get them on the horses. If they’re lucky, a few might still be breathing.”

It was the mention of the wounded men on the ground that caused the kid to refocus his attention. Chuck could smell blood and sweat, the horses and gunpowder. His head was dizzy. You’re sick.

Just like he said.

“Kid, sit down,” he heard from a distant place.

His father laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me? Look at him.”

He couldn’t think about this. Refused to consider it. Down that hole, there was only anger and resentment, and unstoppable tide of it, all that raw despair he had shoved away for so long.

Chuck stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets and drew himself to his full height, knowing there was only one place to look. “I’m not pitiful and I’m not broken,” he said directly to his father. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I learned that out here. It’s okay to have my dreams ... and to be like me. And no matter what happens, I sure as hell won’t be like you.”

“Fuck. Now he decides to grow a pair,” Casey said out the side of his mouth.

In a way, it was true. He had no idea where all of this bravery had suddenly come from, but he guessed that it might’ve had something to do with the man next to him whose loyalty hadn’t wavered an iota.

God. Casey loved him.

“Ungrateful little bastard,” his father said.

“You heard your son.” Casey motioned with the barrel when Rudy made a move to pick up his gun from the ground. “Nuh-uh. Leave the weapons. Pack up the last piece of garbage. Or it’ll be you packed up on the horses.”

“I just want my son back.”

“Yeah, tell it to someone who gives a shit. I don’t care if you’re this kid’s father.” His gun stayed level. “I will kill you.”

Mr. Adams slanted a look at Rudy.

Rudy caught the questioning glimpse and nodded, meaning, he will.

“Suit yourselves. We’ll leave. No need for further violence.”

Casey rolled his eyes and gestured with the gun towards the trail. “Go.”

Rudy helped the last man up on his horse. The greasy-haired punk was bleeding from his shoulder, but didn’t need as much help as the others. As Rudy then climbed up on his own horse, Chuck’s father started to turn, but something made him stop. When he angled the horse around, he leveled his gaze not at Chuck, but at his partner.

“One more thing to consider, Mr. Casey. You’ve made a terrible mistake. And I do believe you know that.” His father then nodded, pretending to tip his hat if it were still on his head. With one last look, he pulled on the reins and the horses broke into a steady four beat gallop.

Chuck felt every hoof hit the ground, the hollow sound shooting straight to his gut. Time slowed. He expelled a harsh breath and relaxed his fingers at his side, watched as the men disappeared into a cloud of stirred-up dust and a stand of aspens along the trail.

Of course, someone should say something, but Casey’s face hadn’t even moved, let alone the rest of him.

“I’m sorry for everything I did,” Chuck said as picked up pieces of a tan crock that had sat on his porch. Until it exploded.

Evidently, Casey was just waiting for an opening. Turning to him, he tucked his gun in his pants, and Chuck found himself staring into an implacable face. “You done making me want to strangle you, or is there a repeat performance coming up – in case you missed any nuances of idiocy?”

“You know what?” Chuck said, backing up. “I’m just going to, ah, find something else to do for a while.”

“Good thinking. Why don’t you go do that, goddess?”

-x-

Chuck sat down on the top porch step and put his elbows on his knees, stared out at the ridge to the east. For once, he had no idea what to say to Casey, and he thought it might be best just to shut up for a while.

Casey seemed pleased with that decision.

The moment the billowing dirt cleared, he had strode past him without another word and walked into the house. It was awfully quiet in there, but the kid tamped down on his curiosity. Besides, he didn’t quiet trust his legs yet.

His father was here. He wasn’t going to give up.

Closing his eyes, Chuck rested his forehead on his clasped hands and concentrated on his breathing. He stayed like that, sitting in the blistering heat until his skin felt like it would melt and his body sapped of strength. Okay, breathe, dummy. The last thing he needed was for Casey to come down on him over one of his spells –

“He was right, you know.”

By the time Chuck jerked, eyes wide, Casey’s boots were already next to him on the top stair. Wary, the kid lifted his head to see his lover sliding his hat on.

“He was?” Chuck’s mouth went dry. “You think ... I’m ...?”

“Not that.” Casey got down on his haunches and leaned close, bracing his hands on one of the posts. Usually the kid thought Casey’s irises were like a watercolor of a summer lake, but right now? They were just scary as hell. “Same thing I told you on the trail. We made a mistake coming here. We made ourselves an easy target.”

“But – but they’re gone now.”

“Know something, cupcake? Asking you not to be naïve is like wishing for rain in the Sahara. Don’t get comfortable, though. It might take them a couple days, but they’ll be back with more firepower.”

Chuck just gave him an aggravated look and unfolded his hands. “It’s my fault. I know. I was the one who insisted we come back.” He gazed out over the meadow, wondering if Casey was ready to accept the olive branch. “And ... while we’re on that topic, I may have made a few other ... well, let’s just call them tiny missteps today.”

“A few, eh? Because I lost count.”

“Um, have I said how sorry I am?

“Not yet, you haven’t,” Casey told him. “It was too damn risky. Never should’ve come back here. But now we’re going to fix it. Pack up what you need and –”

“No.”

Casey just looked at him. “What did you say?”

For the hundredth time that day, Chuck felt his insides twirl. He scooted back, his hands held up. “I’m not leaving. This is my home. I’ve spent the past year running and hiding ... and I’m not going to do it anymore.”

Maybe it was Chuck’s current appearance, sweat coating his skin, knees still obviously watery, but Casey simply growled – minor annoyance, deal with it later, Chuck heard – and rose to his feet. When he loomed over him, Chuck scuttled over to the edge of the step and managed to meet the eyes of his rather pissed-off boyfriend.

“Done doing it your way, kid,” Casey said, picking up the rifle from where he had left it next to the door. “It almost got us killed. Now, we’re gonna do it my way.”

He turned around and headed out to barn before Chuck could say another word.

His head throbbing, Chuck sank back against the porch post, resting his spine, and stared down at his hands, visualizing the reflection of himself he saw in Casey’s eyes right then. A skinny, perspiring young man with disheveled hair and hurt brown eyes, his breath beginning to rasp as he considered what a mess he made.

And in the place he thought he was safe, with only the hum of insects and the song of the bunting in the scrub trees next to the barn, the kid was left with another heavy question or two.

His way?

What the heck did Casey mean by that?

-x-End Chapter Nineteen Sins Fell Angels-x-


	20. Chapter Twenty

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty

-x-

Chuck started out the doorway. Two seconds later, he considered his fate and walked back inside, pushing a hand through his hair. “You know what?” he said to his empty cabin, “Casey probably wants to be alone for a little while longer.”

Double crap. There were only so many ways he could avoid going out to the barn. And for the past five hours and twenty-three minutes, the kid guessed he had used up just about every excuse.

For starters, his sitting room and kitchen looked like they had been caught in a twister, so three hours were burned up just by collecting broken bits of everything, and trying to find out if there were any preserve jars worth keeping, or if the bullet holes through his bookcase could be covered up with his collection of Jules Verne.

The answers were a measly two and yes, but only if he rested several books at a weird angle.

The heavy pine door was another matter altogether. Since he had to do it by himself, it took hefting and struggling, but eventually the door Casey had kicked down with his foot – Chuck was sure he’d break a leg if he tried that – got back on its hinges.

That was a lot of unhealthy anger behind that boot.

“Oh, God,” Chuck said, putting a hand on his forehead. “Casey’s going to kill me.”

Okay, maybe that was crazy. Though the quiet made him nervous, he needed to be logical about this. Would Casey do everything he had done – go on the run, begrudgingly and under protest follow him to the farm – only to strangle him?

Come on, there had to be less than a fifty-percent chance of that happening.

Not so comforting when he put it like that.

Chuck shook that vision from his mind and reached for another piece of glass on the floor. “Sure. I mean, there are a dozen other things he could be doing out there ... all day .... Right?”

The kid rolled his eyes at himself. Chock one up to old habits. Here he was, back to talking to himself as he did in the glamourous and fulfilling days before Casey had burst into his life on that night. He had to make a note to himself to stop doing that.

The sound of a jar rolling on the floor made him pull up short. With his nerves still crackling, the kid automatically reached for the closest weapon at his hand – kettle, book, ah, rolling pin – and whirled around with it in the air. “Who’s there!”

Nothing. Chuck looked down at the floor, arms ready to swing.

The interloper looked up, nonplussed. The kid figured if a beast could manage an expression that said, ‘just me, dumbass’, the big cat nailed it.

“Buddy?” Chuck kept his arms in the air, rolling pin aloft, until he realized his pose would be impossible to explain if Casey chose this second to barge in from the barn. Feeling sheepish, he set it down and found the first reason to smile all day. “Hey, where’ve you been?” Immediately, he got down on his haunches and scratched the cat’s neck. “Though, now that I think about it, you’re the one asking that question, aren’t you?”

Buddy wasn’t in the mood to chat. Instead, the long-haired cat went back to polishing off the jam preserves from the jar Chuck must’ve missed next to the stove.

“Hm. Looks like you did okay for yourself.” His eyes traveled over the cat, making the kid’s smile broaden. “But you’re not the only hunter-gatherer around here anymore. Did you know that, big guy? I brought, um, someone back home with me,” if he hasn’t ditched this place after the fiasco this morning, “and I think there’s leftover turkey. Would you like that?”

The night before, they had feasted on Casey’s kill, turkey and rabbit, along with the few vegetables that Chuck could salvage from the overgrown garden. Figuring the cat wasn’t interested in the potatoes, the kid walked out to the back porch at the side of the house. His root cellar was nothing more than a stone-lined hole on a slope, and once he opened the door, he had to get on his knees to dig around.

“Turkey wings. Okay, Buddy, I hope you appreciate this. And I guess I might as well get dinner going.” Heck, he was out there anyway.

Grabbing up most of the remaining food supply, he backed out and bumped his head on the doorway. Since he had knocked his noggin at least a dozen times before today, he swore to himself and kicked the stupid door shut. “Great. Something else around here I need to fix,” he mumbled.

As he rubbed his head, Chuck had to admit the whack had nothing to do with his own mood. Why couldn’t Casey just come inside and yell or growl or do the usual things to work off his frustration?

Well, not all the usual things, Chuck corrected in his head.

Juggling the food in his arms, he came back into the kitchen and put the supplies onto the table. A quick pull separated the meat, and he placed the cat’s dinner on a saucer. The second it hit the plate, Buddy dove in. “I take it that means thank you,” the kid said, happy for the diversion.

Chuck stood and folded his arms over his chest, stealing a glance towards the window. He could only dawdle for so long.

Yep. Only a little longer.

Man, it was quiet out there.

Well, on the bright side, at least the kid hadn’t heard the brisk clap of Vic’s hooves beating a path to the trail. It meant that no matter how angry Casey had to be – some at himself, mostly at Chuck – there was still something keeping him here. A reason to stay and fight.

Chuck felt exhaustion getting the better of him, and sighed. Face it. He had lost the battle of stubbornness. Sometimes a man just needed to give up.

“Guess who’s in charge of supper tonight,” Chuck said. “Yippee.” He walked over to the window, looking for any movement, and felt his shoulders sag when there wasn’t any. “You can’t kill the man that brings you dinner, you know? Let’s see what we can pull together as a peace offering, Buddy. Hey, get down!”

Buddy grabbed a piece and jumped down right before Chuck scrambled to the table to swat the cat. “I see your manners are still intact – along with your appetite.” Not that he could blame the feline, as his own stomach growled. “Okay, time to get to work.”

Chuck scrounged around the shelves for the bread and butter, and then a knife to slice the tomatoes. There was a small wedge of hard cheddar cheese Casey had pulled from his pack the night before, so the kid sliced up that as well and began heating up the leftover beans on the stove.

“No man can stay mad when you bring him a turkey sandwich,” Chuck told the cat as he assembled the thick turkey slices on the bread. “There has to be a rule about that somewhere.” He squinted down at one of the sandwiches and added another slice of cheese to Casey’s. “Besides, he has to be hungry.”

And with the proper amount of groveling and ass-kissing, that should do it.

It took a few minutes to find a board that could double as a serving tray, but eventually, he remembered there was one under the bed. (It made sense at the time.) He loaded it up with two tin plates and arranged the sandwiches and fixings on the board, making room for the beans and a slightly shriveled apple. Hey, dessert was covered.

Holding the tray, he pushed his way through the door, plates and bowls jostling, and maneuvered the porch steps. As he cut through the grassy path to the barn, Chuck couldn’t help but think that on an evening like tonight, he felt at home. Sure, someone may argue it was easy to love a place in the late spring, with the sun just resting above the ridge, slanting rays over the grassy meadow and blurring the dangers. But the kid didn’t see it that way.

He slowed and took a deep breath. An odd feeling started in his stomach, as if he knew he needed to remember this picture tonight. What it looked like and felt like. Long grasses flowing, rippling and bending like a wide river, reaching out to where the rock gave way to the slope of the ridge. In a clump of sapling maples next to the garden, birds spiraled and spoke in their own language, chirping and warbling as the heat of the day evaporated into billows of floating plant seeds and dandelion plumes. Evening, with the dying sun, gave the farm a promise of renewal, a gift of tomorrow.

If they’d only wait.

But for Casey, there was no waiting. He would insist they pack up and leave. Even though Chuck wasn’t certain he could handle saying goodbye to one more thing in his life.

Pushing away that thought, he concentrated on balancing the tray as he approached the barn. One of the tall doors was partially open, but of course it had to be one that swung away from him, and there was no hope of peeking inside.

“Gosh, you are one stubborn bastard, John Casey,” Chuck muttered. Shuffling to the doorway, he remained still, listening. His partner had to be in there, but he’d never know it from the lack of even a rustling noise coming through the opening.

Chuck sighed and looked towards the house one more time.

Coward. Get in there.

So keeping the peace offering steady, he stepped closer and used an elbow to push the door wider. The rusty hinges creaked, making Chuck wince, but there was only one way to go now –

A swishing noise, followed by the metallic click of a rolling gun chamber stopped him cold in the doorway. The kid caught himself from dropping the tray and shooting his hands in the air, but only just.

“Oh, God,” Chuck said. Closing his eyes, he waited for the big bang, since the last image behind his eyelids was the black hole at the end of Casey’s muzzle.

The scientific part of his brain wondered if would hear the bang if he were dead, but the rest of his grey matter was telling him not to wet his pants.

“Please don’t shoot please don’t shoot.”

“Fucking Christ,” he heard Casey say. “Have I ever warned you about sneaking up on me? You should’ve given a damn signal.”

“I – I didn’t realize we had signals.” Chuck cracked an eye open to see Casey lower the weapon. “Um, surprise?”

“‘Cause you know how much I love those.”

“You, ah, might have a point there.”

Casey picked up a piece of cloth on the ground. “Guess I’ll have to tell you a dozen more times before you just decide to ignore me.”

“Still bitter, I see,” the kid said under his breath.

Casey grunted without looking up from his task.

“But bully for good reflexes, huh? Especially on the whole ‘not pulling the trigger’ thing.”

Casey shrugged and laid the Colt on his lap. “Yeah, I’d hate to have to clean that up tonight, too.”

Now that was uncalled for. Chuck glowered and then stuck his tongue out at him, mostly because Casey wasn’t looking and he could get away with it. Feeling only slightly vindicated, he quickly surveyed what he was walking into.

Just perfect. Detachment combined with orneriness was his least favorite version of his boyfriend, especially since it seemed to be some kind of shield the larger man would use rather than actually talk to him. But it appeared that was exactly what he would have to contend with.

Fine, he screwed up and didn’t listen a good ten times in a row. Did that mean Casey had to be an asshole about it?

“Can I set this down somewhere,” Chuck asked, changing the subject by nodding at the tray, “or should I have slid it under the door?”

Casey finally acknowledged his presence – without a gun pointed at him, anyway – by shrugging again. When he finally looked up, Chuck noticed that the larger man sat in a chair that was much too small for his bulky frame. The kid had no idea how Casey did it, except that he had one leg stretched out in the dirt and hay, and the other knee bent uncomfortably close to his body. The posture reminded Chuck of the time he revisited his primer school classroom once he passed puberty, and how he felt sitting at the rigid desk with his long limbs folded up like an army tent.

Surrounding Casey were several wooden barrels and even a milk bucket turned upside down, all surfaces he had requisitioned into duty as tables. Or tiny stage settings for the gun-o-rama show spread out on each one.

“Still easily placated by shiny firearms?” Chuck asked, observing in fascination. The real question was how in the hell did he fit all of them in his pack. “What – what are you doing there, big guy?”

“They were dirty.” He went back to polishing a rather intimidating-looking pearl-grip pistol. The rest of the weapons were laid out neatly on cloths, hand grips and barrels glistening. “So I’m cleaning them.”

“I can see that.” Closest to the kid’s knee was the prettiest little silver pocket revolver he had ever laid eyes on. “Hey. Wow. Do you mind if I –”

“Like having use of that hand?”

“Um, yes?”

“Then you may wanna keep it where it is.”

Chuck frowned. “Can I at least set this down somewhere? Or slide it through the bars of the grizzly bear’s cage?” And flee?

He was saved from dropping it when Casey reluctantly set down the pistol and moved two of the guns to join their friends in a neat row, freeing up a barrel top. “There.”

“Thanks.” Chuck put the tray on the makeshift table and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I hope you like it. There isn’t much left in the cellar. Tomorrow, I’ll start on cleaning out the garden. Maybe begin replanting?”

It was miniscule, hardly visible, but Casey’s shoulders stiffened. After putting the cloth down, he spent ten interminable seconds staring at Chuck’s face, obviously debating something. Which something, Chuck had no clue.

“Going to stand there hovering,” Casey asked at last, “or are you going to sit down and eat?”

Chuck breathed a sigh of relief. At least he hadn’t been dismissed with another shrug. “Sure ... sure.” He looked around the dim barn. “I guess I’ll have to find somewhere to -”

“Sit.” Casey picked up two guns from the top of a stubby barrel and gave it a small kick towards him.

“Oh-kaaay, I’ll sit there, then,” Chuck tried to joke, but Casey looked less than charmed. He had moved his precious firearms and offered up a chair, so there was that much at least. Without waiting for Casey to change his mind, the kid plopped down on the barrel, knees up near his chest, and scooped up one of the sandwiches. “Turkey okay? We’re a little low on roast beef, fresh trout – oh, and about everything else you can imagine.”

“Eh.” Casey ripped into it and chewed.

Chuck took a smaller bite and watched him while he munched. Maybe he shouldn’t jump into the reason they were eating in the barn until they both had most of the meal devoured. Just to be safe, because Casey still looked angry. And there were a lot of guns within reach.

Fifteen minutes passed by, and there was not even a scrap of bread left. Chuck rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of his face, and waited, because now he figured Casey would have to say something.

Anytime now, the yelling would start.

Casey picked up one the guns, assessing the shininess of it. Finding something that failed to meet his approval, he began to polish an invisible speck near the trigger.

Chuck blinked at him.

Okay, maybe he should be the one to start talking.

“You’re mad,” the kid said, breaking the ice. “I get it.”

Casey took his time on that spot before he slowly folded up the cleaning cloth. “Hell, yes, I’m mad.”

“Will you at least listen? I had my reasons. Yes, okay, I left you there chained to a bed. But I knew I’d be able to draw my father away!”

“By taking you,” Casey said, holding up the gun to catch the light.

“By protecting you.”

Casey leveled a glare that had Chuck sliding back on the barrel. “When the time comes that I need you to protect me, princess, I’ll let you know.”

“It was ... a bit impulsive, perhaps.”

“You seem to have a hard time remembering the plan you were told.”

“Told?” Chuck repeated, his eyes wider. “I can handle myself.”

“Until we’re out of here safely, that’s the way it has to be. Next time, you stay put. I’ll deal with this sort of thing.” Casey straightened and began putting the guns back in their assigned holsters. “You’re the priority.”

Chuck lifted his head. “Why?”

“Because that’s the way it is.” Casey got up from the chair and crossed over to Vic’s stall. He returned a moment later holding her halter and a leather lead rope. In his other hand he held a metal ring that had obviously worn down and separated during their journey to the farm.

“The way it is? That’s it?”

Casey merely plunked back down on the chair, tugged a Bowie knife out of his belt – also noticeably shiny and clean – and began sawing away at the tattered end of the leather lead. “Yep.”

Chuck watched all of this while gaping at him. “Hang on. Let me get this right. You just ended an honest discourse – with one syllable?”

“Yep.”

Now the kid bristled. “Why am I surprised? Well, here’s one for you, John. That’s not how this works anymore.”

Casey, hacking away, refused to look up from his knife and the leather.

“I see, then,” Chuck said, sitting up taller, though it didn’t help him look less ridiculous on the short barrel. “Thanks for asking. I’ll explain it to you. You’re my priority.”

Scoffing to himself, Casey set the knife down and threaded one end of the leather strap through the loop.

“Look, I know you’re used to being – well ....” Not knowing how to finish that, Chuck waved a hand vaguely over his boyfriend from worn boots, to his holster, up to his shoulders. “Um, all of this – but you better get used to it. That’s what partners do. You’ve spent years with no one to jump in front of bullets for you, but that’s changed now.”

“It has, eh?”

Chuck tensed at the skepticism and cleared his throat. “You have me. I have you. Get accustomed to being my priority.”

Casey arched an eyebrow as he considered it. “Got to admit,” he said, tying off the leather. “You’re cute when you get all ruffled, button.”

“I’m not – hey, I was trying to make a point.”

“And you did, so now you can drop it.” Casey gave him a look that said that playtime was now over. “We have our roles. My task is to get us out of here safely. Maybe someday, when we’re far away from here, up in the mountains or on a beach, you can tell me all about jumping in front of bullets for me. But until then, my job is damage control, and by God, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Wait.” Chuck bent forward, searching for humor in his eyes. Nope. “Far away from here?”

“You heard me. Getting ready to go.”

“Who?”

“Us.”

“Uh-huh,” Chuck said, and he paused to wet his lips. “And can I ask when this event is scheduled, since it seems to involve me?”

“Tomorrow night at the latest.”

“Did you happen to recognize the sarcasm right there?”

“I did,” Casey said, his face never changing, “and it’s been rightly ignored, too, pancake. Did you happen to recognize that?”

Chuck wrinkled his nose, mostly at his chances of winning a snappy comeback match with the master.

He couldn’t beat him at cynicism, but ... that didn’t mean he couldn’t be bested in a fair match. Maybe it was time to get Casey to remember that they were alone at the farm. Free to find out if the fireworks they felt, like crazy magic sparks raining down, were just a fluke.

Sure, cool water and warm skin by the creek last night should’ve confirmed it was anything but an accident. But to be on the safe side ... why the hell not remind him?

Here goes nothing, he thought, and Chuck worked himself up to a little boldness by catching his gaze squarely. When he had his attention, the kid oh-so-casually stretched his shoulders and scrubbed his long fingers through his hair, not caring where the wild waves ended up – because he knew what Casey noticed. “Why – why so soon?”

“I told you.” Casey studied him for a second. Then came an eye roll as he pulled one end of the lead through the metal ring. “It’ll take them a few days to round up enough men ... but when they do, they’ll return with a small army. Not that they’ll expect to find us here, since no one would believe that we’d be that stupid.” He pinned the kid back with a look and then jerked his head towards the house. “They’ll start their search inside for any clues before they attempt to pick up our trail.”

“But – but why are you so sure they’ll be back?” Chuck asked, his stomach pitching at the thought. He suddenly rose from his seat, almost knocking the board holding the empty plates in the process. Nerves sent him pacing back and forth, quick choppy strides. “After what happened this morning? I think you convinced them not to come back. Why would they take that chance?”

“You think it’s as simple as a few bullets?” Casey shook his head, took the leather strap between two hands and tugged, tightening the new knot on the ring. “You’re missing about five steps in the equation, kid. Starting with that ... manuscript or book or whatever the hell it is.”

“The written Cipher,” Chuck said weakly, making a turn at the stall to give him a sour face.

“Nah, I got a better name for it. Why don’t we call what it is? The lure that had to bring them back here.”

“I’m ... really sorry about that.” Chuck flinched when he dared to look over at Casey. “But I didn’t know, honestly.”

“Christ. Of course they would come looking. They might be able to let you go, kid, thinking you’re broken. Hopeless.” His voice was surprisingly bitter. “But both? Not a chance.”

“I made a mistake, okay?”

“Everybody makes damn mistakes. Hell, I’ve made plenty. What you do, kid, is poke a stick at the Grim Reaper and hope he doesn’t hook you.”

“Well ... I -”

“And then you never admitted you still had that damn thing.” Casey laid the length of strap over his knee and looked up at the rafters; the expression was somewhere between pissed-off and ... hurt. “I had misgivings coming back here. I knew it was a shitty idea, but if I had known the one other thing they were looking for was here, I would’ve never given in to those damn puppy dog eyes.”

“I don’t have puppy dog eyes. They’re ... just brown. Sheesh.”

“Heh.”

“That’s an art, John. Packing so much cynicism into one small noise?”

“Yeah?” When Casey peered up at him, he surprised Chuck with a shift in his demeanor, his eyes enjoying a leisurely perusal down the kid’s body. “Though I like your initiative, cupcake, your seduction skills need a little work.” He grinned impishly, turning Chuck’s blush up a notch. “Still and all, if you knew what the hell you were doing, it wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”

Chuck glared and threw his hands up in the air. “Okay, granted, I should’ve said something about it.”

“Yes, you should’ve,” Casey said, leaning back in the chair. “And that’s not even the reason I’m ready to warm your backside.”

Chuck’s face twisted into a grimace. “It’s not?”

“You didn’t trust me.”

“I –”

“You let emotions override the decision,” Casey cut in, “to ride past this place and never look back.” Anger had seeped into his voice, but Chuck forced himself to look over and wait for him to finish. “When a problem showed up in your front yard this morning, you didn’t trust me to clean it up. Your mouth is talking about trust but the rest of you just hasn’t caught up yet.”

“If I didn’t trust you, John, I wouldn’t be here,” Chuck pointed out. He rested his back against the stall door and briefly glimpsed at Vic. “We would’ve never gotten this far away ... if I didn’t have that much, at least.”

It was true. They both knew it. But the recognition of that fact couldn’t curb the mule-headed look on Casey’s face. “Shoulda just did what I said I would do,” he muttered, “the last time you pulled a stunt like this.”

The vehemence made Chuck blink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He immediately wanted to kick himself when Casey then studied him with a small smirk.

“You really don’t know. Thought I was kidding, eh, tough stuff?”

“Kidding?”

“About needing to go over my knee for every last fool stunt you pulled,” Casey said, eyeing him speculatively. “Maybe I should finally follow through on my word there, kid.” Seeing Chuck’s shocked expression, he laughed a little. “You’re wondering, aren’t you, but I think I’m just the man to do it, too.”

“Hah. Glad you’re in a better mood,” Chuck said, resting his boot against the bottom rail of the stall. “But please be serious and tell me what your plan is for tomorrow. Are we ever coming back here? Will I see Morgan again?” Instantly, four or five other regrets swam to the surface, but he shoved those down. “Just tell me ... where are we going?”

Casey was silent for a moment, though he chewed the corner of his mouth in a contemplating manner. He seemed to pick up on the fact that in one question, the kid told his lover he’d give it all up to be with him.

“All right,” he finally said, and his wide shoulders relaxed a bit, settled against the post behind him. “I think we can still resurrect part of the plan,” he explained. “Getting to St. Louis and disappearing from there.”

“We’re going ... east?”

Casey grunted, apparently to congratulate Chuck for his directional aptitude. “I’ll go through it with you tomorrow until you can recite every damn bit of it. But right now, I want to make sure we’re ready for a long ride on the trail.”

“Well, the shooting part should be covered, I guess,” Chuck deadpanned, taking stock of the guns.

Ignoring him, Casey picked up the knife, cut off the other worn end of the strap, and began tying an intricate knot. “You can help me with this. Vic’s lead rope wore through the ring. As soon as I get this tied, you take the other end. Need to pull it tight. Then we’ll check on the other one’s tack.”

“You mean Satan’s spawn,” Chuck said, glancing over at the appaloosa they had stolen from Liam the night they escaped. Crap. The kid did not want to spend any more time near it, not with the way it’s large, vacant eyes stared at him, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice.

“Here. It’s ready. Take the other end.”

Chuck tilted his head at the lose end Casey had offered up. “To do what ... exactly?”

“Help pull the knot tight,” Casey said, nodding at his extended hand. “Come on.”

Chuck hesitated. That was an awfully large knife next to Casey’s other hand. “Are you still ... mad at me?”

Casey’s eyes swept over him. “Why don’t you come here and find out.”

Chuck considered it and put his elbows on the top rail of Vic’s stall. “Oh, yeah, because that’ll work out well. Go ahead. You don’t need my brute strength.”

“It was a joke, muffin,” Casey replied, leaning forward to move the tray to the ground, clearing the way. “Now get over here. Best way to do this is with two people putting their weight behind it.”

“I – uh, no.”

“No?”

“I’m fine here,” Chuck decided, his only movement to stretch his hands over the rail. “Oh, but thanks for the offer.”

“Glad you still find me incredibly terrifying.” Casey didn’t sound offended, merely half amused and half pleased. “Don’t trust me?”

Chuck frowned to hear his own words tossed back at him. “Of course I do.” Even though the murky light in the barn gave the illusion that Casey’s eyes glimmered mischievously.

“Good. Then take this.”

“Well, I didn’t trust you at first,” Chuck admitted, beginning to ramble as he pushed off from the fence. He sidled a few feet closer. “I was still firmly planted in distrust around the time you chased me through the woods. When you tried to shoot me?”

“Wasn’t aiming for you,” Casey felt the need to point out. Suddenly, looking bored with this game, he lowered his hand and sagged back against the post, getting comfortable. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He shook his head and chuckled softly. “Funny that you bring up that night, though.”

“Why is it funny?”

“Because if I remember correctly –”

“- which you have a tendency to do,” Chuck interrupted.

“- I warned you what was going to happen, and you should’ve believed me.”

“We’re not talking about the same night, are we?” Chuck, beginning to smile now that Casey seemed less on edge, unfolded his arms and walked slowly toward the chair his boyfriend was sitting on. “That was ... before. Oh”, I remember. You were going to hang me by my toes? Honestly, that bit again? Because I really hoped we were past that stage of our relationship.”

“No, that wasn’t it – though, sometimes it’s tempting.” Now that Chuck had moved within reach, Casey grabbed the leather lead strap and held it out to him again, waiting as the kid wrapped his fingers around the rope, ready to pull. “It was something else.”

“Like what?”

“Better if I show you, kid.”

Somewhere, a warning bell had sounded between his ears. Too late. Before Chuck could stammer out another question or pull back, Casey’s grip slid up to the kid’s wrist, his hand closing over it. “Hey ... what’re you doing?”

“Warming your backside for you, that’s what. You need it. A little damn discipline – which I should’ve done long ago. And at least twice today.”

“Wait ....” Chuck was still blinking at being dragged close enough to bump Casey’s knees and not able to tug back on the rope. He looked down and cringed. Like an idiot, he was still hanging onto it. “You’re not ...being serious?!”

“C’mere, twerp,” Casey growled. The grip tightened in a very serious way. “A little advice. This’ll go much better for you if you forego all the usual kicking and screaming.”

“I – I changed my mind!” Chuck blurted, trying to twist his wrist free. When it only hurt more, he gave up on that useless tact. So instead, he babbled. “I don’t want to help you with the strap – I really think you can handle that on your own – and I should be taking care of the dinner dishes anyway. And the cat? Did you know we still have a cat? Big? Kinda bushy? Now, let me go.”

“Well, here’s the thing, pancake. I said I would do it, and I haven’t changed my mind at all.” Casey, still sitting on the chair, let his gaze drift down the kid’s long legs, back up to his face, and he made a ‘hm’ noise. “You’re taller than the usual person in this position, but since you’re also as skinny as a fence post, we shouldn’t have any problems getting you over my lap.”

“No problem?!” Chuck’s eyebrows went high and then low very quickly. “You wouldn’t dare!” He realized how that sounded, just as Casey’s fingers dug in a little more. “Wow. That came out wrong. I meant -”

“Just making it harder, cupcake.”

Chuck wasn’t sure what to think of Casey’s gleam when he said that. He thought about trying to twist his hand free again, but the odds of that actually working were dropping as fast as his stomach.

“I’m - I’m a grown man,” Chuck reminded him. “And I’m fairly certain disagreements between adults are best resolved through constructive dialogue.”

“You have any idea how many grown men could benefit from a good swat to the ass?”

“Um.” God, did he really just argue the relevance of expressive dialogue with John Casey?! His mind scrambling, Chuck used his height as an advantage, making his boyfriend crane his neck to meet his eyes. “Okay, I hate to do this, but I may have to ... make you sleep in the barn tonight if you push it. I mean, funny joke. Ha ha. Now can we just ... talk?”

For two humming, heart-pounding seconds, Casey just stared. There was a hint of disbelief on his face, but he finally conceded with a nod. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

“Glad to see you being reasonab-” was all Chuck got out.  
He never saw Casey move. Just a blur of light blue shirt and jeans where his boyfriend had been an instant before, and then Chuck’s stomach smacked against Casey’s knees. As soon as his chest was flattened over his lap, the kid felt something hard across his shoulders, holding him where he was.

“This isn’t being r-reasonable!” he stuttered. Staring at the dirt floor and feeling slightly helpless was unsettling. More than a little. And if the kid needed a reminder at how strong Casey was, the arm locked over his back, yoke-like and sturdy, should’ve clued him in.

“You can talk from here, can’t you?”

“You – you should’ve warned me!” Chuck sputtered, trying to find something to hold onto that wasn’t attached to Casey.

“Warned you plenty, tiger.”

“Not like that! I – I meant so that I could run!”

“This is way more fun.” Casey actually sounded like he was chuckling. That asshole!

Chuck’s face settled into a mutinous scowl until it occurred to him Casey only had a view of his jean-clad ass at the moment. Fine. He’d show him. The kid began scrambling to free his legs, but his boyfriend put a stop to that by simply hooking his left thigh over the back of the Chuck’s knees. He knew his stuff when it came to pinning people. Chuck couldn’t move at all. “You tricked me! I was going to help you tighten the knot, remember?”

“Seriously, kid, I’m sure I could tighten it on my own without pulling your mighty muscles into the equation.”

Oh, God. When was he going to learn? Never, ever, dare John Casey.

“Time to lose the pants, brown eyes.”

“You want to take my - what?” Chuck struggled to get into a better position. Or, really, any other position. But having the kid pinioned over his lap with his right arm gave Casey’s left hand a kind of freedom that was instantly troublesome. And the larger man was apparently going to take advantage of that.

“Never have put up a fight like this before,” Casey said as his free hand cupped his ass, taking a firm hold of his right buttock. “I can drag it out if that’s what you want.”

“Hey! That’s – that’s not spanking!”

Casey snorted softly. “Point for you, kid. See, you can pay attention when you put your mind to it.”

As the kid started to open his mouth, he felt one last little grope though the jeans. “What – what are you doing!” He had a half-second to gasp when Casey, obviously bored with the conversation, snaked a hand around and under him in quest of the jean’s buttons. “Hey ... you’re tickling me ... watch it!”

“Hold still mean something else in greenhorn, kid?”

“Oh. My. God.” Chuck blinked fuzzily at the ground and forced his mind to refocus. “This is not how I pictured tonight!”

Not that the kid was afraid, but that didn’t stop the sheer surge of nerves writhing around his lower belly. At another time, he’d have to examine why the tension was joined with a confusing heat that began at his collar and worked down his limbs. He suddenly wanted to shiver; it wasn’t quite a tingle, not nearly excitement, but he definitely felt his nerves lighting up, a dark and treacherous betrayal beginning to pump through his veins.

“You’ll find out how serious in a minute.” Casey definitely sounded frisky. That was almost as disconcerting as the anger from a few minutes ago. The hand brushing against his stomach as it methodically worked on the buttons was all business, however. One by one, the kid felt his fingers making quick work of unfastening them.

“Can we ... talk about – ah –this?!”

“If you’d like,” Casey rumbled. As he spoke, Chuck felt his partner’s hand slide up to his back side and take a firm hold of the waistband. “Why don’t you tell me why it’s a bad idea to leave me chained to a bed so you can go get yourself kidnapped?”

“Um, can we start talking about something else – hey ....”

Casey hooked his thumb under the waistband and tugged. That time, the horrible drag of denim and undershorts against his ass told him Casey really wasn’t messing around. Suddenly, the kid felt a breeze from his waist down. “Perfect little ass, know that?” There was a pause. “Hum. Didn’t realize you have a tiny birthmark here.”

“Where – ah! Hey, watch it!” Chuck grabbed onto Casey’s left calf and breathed displeasure through his nose. Mostly because it was the one thing he could still do. “Have you thought of this? I – I get dizzy when my head is lower than my knees!”

“Better get started, then.”

“Or you could just - ow!”

“Okay, that’s one,” Casey said bluntly. Chuck was certain that what he felt after the slight sting - clenched fingers, digging into the meat of one rounded cheek - had nothing to do with spanking, but he wisely kept his mouth shut about it.

“One. Really?” The kid breathed out a sigh of relief. That was it? “Because that didn’t even – ow!”

“Don’t I always start you easy, kid?” Casey brushed his thumb over the prickly heat where his fingers had been. “Work up to it?” And just as he said it, the kid braced himself for another smack, and Casey didn’t disappoint.

“Oh my God, what was that?!” Chuck angled his head around, knowing his face was beet red, partly from the incursion and mostly from the humiliation of being taken over his damn knee. “Not – not the strap, okay? That’s not fair. You can’t use that, John.”

“Not gonna use the strap on your ass,” Casey said, and for a reason Chuck couldn’t fathom, his voice had gotten throaty, lower. “Though I can if you want me to.”

“Well, it was – oh. Oh ....” Goddamn. Casey’s fingers. Almost too light to feel, tracing the hollow of his back, over the curve of a cheek. Dropping a hand lower, there was a feathery touch along his crease, sending a ripple of response through him. “Oh, no,” Chuck whispered. “Not good. Not good.”

“Know what that is, kid?”

“I have a fairly good idea.” Only because his hand was warm, big; everything about it familiar to his skin.

“Different from this, eh?”

“How - ow!” Damnit. Harder. He wasn’t kidding about working his way up. With that swat, Chuck instinctively flexed his fingers over Casey’s jeans, getting nothing to grab onto but his stiff boot over his calf. “Okay. Okay, you got your chuckle – are you done?”

Casey ignored the little plea he used to coat his voice. “Not even started yet.”

“Not ... started?” A blush rode over his cheekbones like stomping hooves. The kid wriggled a bit more on principle, but instead giving him his palm again, Casey brushed the swell of one cheek, then the other. A wholly intimate touch.

“This is to make you think about it.” His hand stayed still for a moment, then his fingers moved, tracing his crease, up and down ... and oh.

That was twice as evil as a spanking.

Please no please no, he thought. Chuck balled up his hands, trying to will his body not to do –

“Shit.”

To be fair, how could he not react to that? If he was standing on the ground, he’d be swaying, now that the blood had rushed out of his head to another place.

“Like that?” A beginning of a chuckle shook Casey’s chest. “Or did you decide to carry a gun today ... after all the fuss?”

“You know damn well I don’t!”

“Didn’t feel like one, but I thought I’d ask.” His fingers gently scrubbed across the place he had smacked a second ago. “Not pale anymore, city boy. You’re getting nice and pink.” Casey dragged his hand over Chuck’s rumpled shirt, away from his stinging ass for a short respite. “It ... looks good on you.”

“What if I say that – ow! Hell!” Chuck squirmed one more time until Casey tightened his thigh over the back of his knees. “Okay, okay. I get it. You win, all right? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“It’s a start,” Casey said, massaging the skin he had just slapped. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re going to do the next time I ask you to listen?”

“Ask? You know, that’s an interesting term, isn’t it?” Chuck said with more than a trace of sarcasm. “It kind of implies that the person being asked is given an – son of -! Ouch! Will you stop that?”

“Didn’t hear an answer.”

“Are you enjoying this?”

“Not as much as you, kid.” Like he needed to be reminded, Casey’s thumb rolled down his crack again, dipping in more than before. “God, that’s tight.”

“Oh, no.” Chuck shut his eyes, his body becoming rigid. If there were any rules in this situation, they would distinctly say that being caught bare-assed and helpless was perhaps the time to put respectability aside. “Okay. Admittedly, I barreled into a few situations – ow! Bastard! Okay, more than a few situations when you cautioned me not to. When we’re in danger, I need to ... try and list – hey! – I will listen!”

“And stay put.” When his fingers grazed over his left buttock, they paused to caress a place the kid was certain had a small welt. “Just remember, kid. I’ll have no problem tanning your hide if you even think of one of your stunts again. And it’ll be a first-rate one, not any of these little love taps you felt tonight. Got that?”

“I – I think I got the message,” Chuck mumbled, and then swallowed hard. “Are you done mortifying me yet?”

“Embarrassed?” Casey chuckled, not moving to let him up. His hand began kneading, fingers raking curves of muscles in ways that had Chuck aware of every touch against his buttocks, the press of Casey’s arm and hips, holding him down. “We’re the only ones here, boyo. And I think I know your position on the matter – unless we go back to the gun theory – so why are you embarrassed?”

“That’s – only because you were doing ... other things, okay?”

“Touching that fine ass you’ve got?” His fingers trailed there, sweeping over a blotch and making Chuck hold his breath. “You might want to keep your jeans off until tomorrow. Wouldn’t want anything rubbing against this.” To that point, a few fingers explored the warm flesh of one cheek, gently fondling it as if to test the sensitivity. “But since I know your stubbornness issues, I’m going to give you one last reminder.”

“One?” Chuck barely had the word out before he felt Casey shift. The slide and crinkle of something in Casey’s hand was a sound that skittered down his spine. The strap? “Wait –”

His partner had set his mind to something, the kid knew, so he did the only thing he could. Squeezing his eyes shut, he held his breath and braced his lean, rangy body for something he still couldn’t believe was happening -

“Easy, kid,” Casey said in a steady voice. “This feel good?”

“I – I’m not sure.” Chuck jerked at the first touch, but it was nothing like he had expected. It took his brain two seconds to register the dragging sensation along his buttocks, the soft abrasion of the leather, hardly more than a tickle. The belt slithered over his buttocks and fell to the crease of his ass, pausing to smooth lightly up, down. Oh, that was .... Chuck relaxed his shoulders and back, sagging into him. “... Shit ...”

“Yeah?” Casey’s voice held a grin Chuck couldn’t see. “’Cause I wasn’t planning on using this on you – unless you asked for it.”

No,” Chuck said quickly. “I’m good. I promise.”

“Better than good, princess.” Loosening his hold over his shoulders, Casey’s hand went up and under his shirt, splayed out over his back, before massaging along his spine. “But don’t kid yourself. I do mean every damn word I said. You should think about being in this position again before you run off and do something moronic. Again.”

The kid wet his throat and tried to ignore the band of reaction in his lower body, drawing tauter. “Can – I get up now?”

The answer came in a proprietary touch around his middle, big hand skimming over the top of his buttocks. Leaning down, Casey pressed his lips to the back of his neck, worked his way down his nape, pausing to grin when he felt Chuck’s responding tremble. “Sure that’s what you want?”

When Casey then toyed with a lock of his hair, Chuck sucked in a breath instead of telling him to go to hell. “I want to stand up,” he said, clutching at his last scrap of dignity. “Can we consider this little lesson over? Please?”

“You earned it.” Running his knuckles along the slope of one buttock, Casey then loosened his hold completely and let his hand fall away. “If you need me to do that again a little harder next time,” he said, “well you just let me know. Happy to bend over backwards for you, stud.”

“Hilarious. Thanks,” Chuck groused. The fact that the thought of it confused him was pushed to the back of his mind. Instead, he scrambled off of Casey’s lap and crossed over to the stall, needing a little distance. He reached for the top of his jeans and pulled them up, scowling as he glanced off to the side to see Casey watching him.

Jesus, it did sting just a little, like the friction of hot sand. Trying to be discreet, the kid rubbed his backside petulantly, until noticing the smug look that caused. “What?” he asked between stiff lips, hastily pulling his hand down. “Do you feel better now, Casey?”

Casey leaned back in the chair, legs stretched out in front of him. “Somewhat,” he admitted, raising an amused eyebrow. “But not entirely.”

“Why do I get the feeling you enjoyed that too much?” Chuck said, beginning to tuck his shirt in.

Casey’s eyes drifted down his body, making Chuck warm all over again. “I enjoyed it? Heh. You might wanna keep your shirt untucked, brown eyes.”

And oh God, he did not want to follow Casey’s line of sight, but he already knew. Yep. An erection tented the front of his jeans. He may pretend to be unaffected, but his body was a terrible liar.

“Bastard,” Chuck whispered, untucking the front of his shirt.

“It’s okay to look in the mirror tomorrow and want that again,” Casey observed, grinning from ear to ear. “For the record, I wouldn’t mind.”

“For the record, I would,” the kid answered hotly. Damn him! He pushed out his shoulders and tried to look bad ass, but it was nearly impossible when he considered he had just spent time over Casey’s lap being treated like a child caught in a tantrum. So he settled on a manner of detachment without looking sulky, and attempted to smooth down his hair.

He looked over to find Casey examining him with narrowed eyes. “You do realize, some of this has nothing to do with spanking.”

“And everything to do with – what?”

Casey leaned back far enough for the two front legs of the chair to rise off the ground, his shoulders against the post. “Pretty ... what you have there, sunshine.” He nodded, eyes going from warm to a slow burn. “Why don’t you come over here?”

Chuck shook his head. “Wasn’t it just ten minutes ago I did that – and ended up ... in a rather compromising position?”

“Nice way to say your bare ass got introduced to my hand,” Casey said, not at all repentant, and crooked his finger at him. “Not gonna do that again tonight. Come here.”

Chuck frowned. The ‘not tonight’ qualification was worrisome.

It was truly fascinating, he thought, how one finger could be so damn intimidating. He already had sufficient evidence that if he refused, Casey would just make him do it anyway. Besides, it seemed like the gallant thing to do, to show he wasn’t afraid, and since his ass stung a little, he needed every bit of manliness he could hang on to.

“All right.” Chuck straightened, crossed his arms over his chest, and put more purpose in his stride. “I suppose you weren’t quite done tormenting me, and that’s why I’m standing here?”

Casey’s grin almost redefined cocky. “That’s hardly the reason, kid. Here. Let me show you.”

“You do understand why those aren’t the most comforting words – oh. Easy ....”

Because when the kid didn’t move in quickly enough for Casey, the larger man leaned forward in the chair, hooked one hand on his jeans, and tugged him until Chuck was centered squarely between Casey’s knees. “Lift up your shirt, kid,” Casey said.

Chuck gaped. “No! Why? So that you can see –”

“What you have for me.” Since it was clear Chuck was too red-faced to do it, Casey simply pushed the front of the kid’s shirt aside and laid his hand over his erection. “Too sweet to waste that, pancake.”

“God.” Chuck swallowed as a sensation shot straight down his lap, an arrow of hunger and adrenaline. “John ....”

“You took your punishment. Didn’t cry like a baby or stomp out of here all mad as a wasp in a kicked hive.” Casey molded his fingers, cupping him through the jeans, and pressed the heel of his hand against Chuck’s engorged cock. “Shows that you can be a man about it, though you still piss me off sometimes.”

“I don’t ... I think ....”

“You don’t think sometimes, agreed.” Casey gave him one more clench and moved his hand from the front of Chuck’s pants to his hip. Bringing up his other hand to the small of his back, it was easy to bring him closer, and with his thumbs stroking just inside his low waistband, Casey steered the kid into him until his face nearly touched Chuck’s jeans. “There, that’s what I meant.”

“In case you’re wondering,” Chuck said, feeling his mouth go dry, “I don’t mind this nearly as much.” Not when all of that strength was channeled into gentle yet firm strokes.

“Jesus, you’re good enough to eat.” Then Casey bent his head and pressed his lips to Chuck’s bare belly, coursing over a low strip of exposed skin. “You were sweating ... nervous. I can taste it, kid.”

“I - you can’t blame me ....” As he touched him with his tongue, Chuck fought the desire to shove into him. He closed his eyes, shuddering as Casey’s lips licked his tender flat stomach, tasting him, sucking the flesh over the last line of bare skin before the jeans got in the way. The insinuation of where he’d be willing to put his mouth next had Chuck arching his hips before he could stop himself, thigh muscles straining towards the heat.

Unbelievable. After what he had just done? And now he was letting him rub his cock and lick his belly as if he owned him?

“Yeah?” Casey moved his mouth down, over the rough fabric of his jeans, and nipped him through his pants. Harder than he would without the barrier, but not hard enough. “Should’ve put teeth marks on your ass ... would you like that instead?”

Chuck lowered his head, knowing the proper thing to do would be to back up.

His feet didn’t move. Instead, he gazed down at Casey and had to lick his lips in reaction. “I’m .... Do it again.”

Casey lifted his head, increased his grip on one thigh. “Like that?”

“Yes. Shit, yes.”

“Brazen for a man with a red ass, eh?” Casey smiled, lowered his head to set his teeth against the perfect outline of his length. He gave him a bit more pressure than before.

“Oh.” Chuck’s head fell back, and he groaned softly. “God ... not too much. Like the first time.” Did he just spit that out? The words came out of a void he couldn’t face. He only knew he was falling deeper. “When you did that ... oh, God ....” A smaller bite, and Chuck’s legs jerked forward. “Th-that. Right there....”

“What do you say, kid?”

“Please ... can you ...?”

His teasing glint told the kid that wasn’t exactly what Casey was going for. But it pleased him to no end to hear it. “Thought you were going to tell me you’d be a good boy from here on out until we’re safe.”

“I’m not a boy.”

“I can see that,” Casey murmured, tilting his head so that his blue eyes and sinful mouth were so close. “And that begging makes me want to do all sorts of things to you, brown eyes. But I think you might remember that. How about this?”

When he felt Casey scrape his cheek over his erection, he didn’t know whether to be afraid or ashamed of his own desire. Who was he now, letting Casey handle him so easily? The deep tenor of his voice, his sharp eyes, were one thing, but Casey’s way of taking him over filled a yearning inside of him that he could barely recognize. The man seemed to reveal a whole other level to him that took him by surprise.

He’d always known that it was a man’s touch he craved. But this was further than his reach; it went deep within his soul. Chuck couldn’t explain it, whether it was something about Casey or something about himself, or about the burning he felt when they came together.

It was as if the need had always been there, just waiting for him to look toward it.

To protect. Utter. Devotion.

All the same, the kid wanted to kick his ass at times for the misguided way he demonstrated it.

“You ... have a ways to go to redeem yourself, Casey,” Chuck murmured.

“Feels like you already forgave me, kid,” Casey said. As he flexed his fingers, Chuck allowed himself to sink into the feel of Casey’s possessive touch on his cock, his already intimate knowledge of it that helped him find the head unerringly and rub the ridge.

Closing his eyes, Chuck quietly groaned.

He didn’t expect to hear the chair creak as Casey sat back in his seat. Wait. He sat back? What the hell. “You keep that up ... making those little sounds ... and it’ll be a damn short night.”

Chuck wet his lips and cracked his eyes open. “Casey ... I thought you were going to ...?” God, he couldn’t say it.

“Nah. Too early for that.” Casey let his hand drop, lowered his head to bite him one more time – quick and playful - and slapped his ass. “Got plans, kid.”

“Ow!” Chuck jolted, mostly because that area was already hypersensitive. “Got plans? You changed your mind?”

“Yeah.” Casey rose and picked up the leather halter. Chuck could see him consider an idea seriously, which made him want to back up a step. Just to be cautious, that’s all.

“Then I guess I’ll find something else to do,” Chuck grumbled, hedging towards the stall of Satan. Chores, or evil, ravenous horses for that matter, never went away.

But before he could turn, Casey looped the strap over Chuck’s head and around the back of his neck. “C’mere, brown eyes,” he said in a low voice. As he gave it a little pull, the kid felt his feet stumble forward until his chest nearly touched Casey’s. “Didn’t mean I wanted you to leave.”

“The horses?”

“I already took care of them.”

“I – okay.” Staring into his lover’s face, seeing the way Casey looked at him as he held the length of halter between two hands, Chuck parted his lips and let out a breath. The strap, pressing into the back of his neck, ensured that he stayed put. Not that it hurt; it was just the feeling of not being able to move that caused his stomach to flutter. “What – what are you doing with that?”

Deliberately, Casey wrapped both ends tighter by looping them a couple times around his fist, keeping his eyes locked to his. With each circle, the leather strap became shorter, until Chuck had no choice but stand nearly pressed to that big body, hard chest against his.

“Stay still,” Casey said, and then gently caressed his temple with his lips, kissed his stubbly cheek, his nose. Cradling his jaw, he ran his thumb over Chuck’s lips so that he parted them further, allowing him to put the tip of the thumb between them. He waited to see if the kid would take the bait and suck it, but Chuck wasn’t ready to give in to that.

So he caught the thumb in his teeth and bit down a fraction too firmly.

“Ow!”

“You deserved that.”

“Little shit,” Casey said, smirking as he drew his thumb over the kid’s bottom lip. “You still may have some convincing to do.”

“I do?”

“Maybe... you’re willing to show me more,” Casey whispered, stroking the side of his neck beneath the halter, the pad of his thumb passing over smooth flesh. “Find out that when it comes down to it, you can be obedient when you need to be.”

Chuck pursed his lips, not certain he liked the sound of that. “Life and death situation, yes. Living my own life, you can go to hell. When you want to ... do other things .... Well, ah, still trying to wrap my head around it, okay? And ... if it comes to it, I’m going to tell you when to stop.”

“Fair enough.” Only a few inches separated their lips. Casey leaned in, fitted his mouth over Chuck’s, his hand holding his jawbone, and took him in slow, deliberate kiss. His tongue did the same thing the larger man had done to his life; a welcome invasion, sweeping him up and taking him under in a tidal pool, just with his mouth moving and teeth gently nipping. Warmth infused his body like hot flame.

“Casey, you’re killing me,” Chuck mumbled against his lips.

“Shh.” When Casey reached down and pressed his hand over him, Chuck groaned into his mouth and Casey answered with a quiet murmur of pleasure. “I wanna show you ... how good trust can feel. Would you like that?”

“I ... think so.” The unknown could be frightful. That was the best he could do at the moment.

Casey put some slack in the tether, pulling back to eye him. “Think so. Skittish ... yet stubborn. I’d complain about that ... if it didn’t make me want to bend you over a barrel.”

“Not – not another sp-spanking?”

“No even close, princess,” Casey said. Giving a little pull, he hauled him in for a firm open-mouthed kiss and boldly cupped his erection until the kid let out a little hungry noise. “Have your attention, Chuck?”

Chuck wet his throat. Hesitating, he said, “Show me, then.”

“All right.” Casey grinned and the next kiss made his lips tingle. “It means following me ... and I think you’re going to want to.”

“You seem sure of yourself.”

He held the leather strap taut, half-tangled already in the curls at the back of his neck. “Let’s start here,” Casey said, his lips still brushing his, his breath ghosting warm on Chuck’s cheek. “Where’s the manuscript?”

“The manuscript?” Chuck blinked at him, his brain swimming. Before he could think, his eyes darted upward. “Why ... why is that important now?”

“Because I want to know,” Casey told him. He slid his fingers into the strap of the collar, knuckles brushing his throat. The halter stayed where it was. “So it’s up the ladder in your loft.”

“I never said that!”

Casey snorted. “Cupcake, you may have dark eyes any girl would kill for, but they give away too much. Buachaill deas.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment,” the kid asked, irritated, “because it might’ve gotten lost in the sentiment.” He straightened his shoulders imperceptivity and tried to back up a step, but holy God, Casey was not letting go of the leather halter. “Are you done playing around with that?”

Watching the kid’s face carefully, Casey tightened his grip on both ends and then towed Chuck’s neck and body forward until their noses touched. “Does it bother you, kid? Holding you close?”

“N-no. It’s just, ah, digging into the back of my neck a little.”

That was all it took for Casey to loosen the strap – a little, anyway. He still held onto either end and kept him lassoed within it. “I can fix that,” he said at length, looking at him thoughtfully while he fiddled with one end.

“Fix what?” Chuck asked. Not just take it?

“Mm. Chin up.”

Chuck complied with a huff.

“Good.” But instead of lifting his arms to unloop it, or remove it in long drag, Casey’s fingers found the metal clasp and one end. Round it went, looping once, dragging along his skin.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chuck asked. His eyes narrowed in suspicious at his lover’s face.

“Best not to squirm, eh?” A pair of big hands moved deftly, doing something under his chin that he couldn’t see. Chuck could only feel the cool clasp against his throat, fingers nudging then tying it off, so that the kid had no choice but to stay within the length of the leash from him.

Fucking what now? Leash?

Chuck’s eyes bulged. “What?” His eyes went briefly down, following the three foot length of halter to Casey’s fist. “I never agreed to that!”

“Is that ‘stop’?”

“Did it sound like stop, John?”

“Good. Then tough,” Casey said, and he gave the strap a little ‘lesson time’ tug. “Let’s go. Ladder.”

“At least let me take the other end. I don’t want – ah. Okay.”

“Walk.”

Chuck immediately realized that standing there gaping at Casey’s back would only give him whiplash, so he began to reluctantly amble behind him. “When I said show me, you could’ve warned me that you’re still mad.”

Casey came to a stop at the bottom of the ladder. A smirk was already beginning to grow. “I’m not mad anymore. Like I said, we just have some unfinished business, you and me.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

Ignoring the perturbed look, his boyfriend turned and climbed the first few rungs. “Up. You’re going to show me where that ... thing is.”

Chuck tensed and tried to put on the brakes with his heels, but he valued the flesh of his neck a little too much. “Who said I’m going to let you drag me up there?”

“Let? Heh.” Casey’s eyes grew more intent as he took hold of the rung over his head. “Have to admit, though, if I weren’t pissed, this would make me hard as a rock by now.”

Chuck somehow turned redder, not sure what to say, especially since that part of Casey’s anatomy was now at eye level. “Why should I follow you?” he asked as he looked up past Casey’s head to the darkened loft. “There’s nothing up there.”

“Because I don’t think that’s the truth, puppy. And we’re going to find out.” Casey let his fingers trail downward along the tether, hook under the buckled collar, tugging so Chuck moved a step forward. “Then, what I said still holds true. You have to trust me ... that I’m not going to let go of the other end. And that’s because you won’t allow it.” He pointed with his chin. “Now, do you want to come or not?”

-x- End Chapter Twenty Sins Fell Angels-x-


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty One

 

-x-

“Here’s something you haven’t thought about,” Casey heard from underneath him. “What if I fall down the ladder? I mean, in your line of work, you must be familiar with the concept of a good hanging?”

“Do you plan on tripping?”

“Were the wolves who raised you unkind to you as a child?”

“Yeah, they bit.” Casey glanced down and kept climbing. “I do, too, so you might want to get up here.”

“I was just wondering because – whoa.” The ladder wobbled.

“Watch your step, princess.”

“I think I can handle the climb. I’ve done it enough.” The kid was following, at least, and not pulling back on the strap. If Casey thought about it long enough, that last piece of soul-baring knowledge could be enough to drive him to his knees.

“Then I guess getting strung up should be the least of your worries.” At the top of the ladder, Casey turned, surveyed the airy loft, and shook his head. “Unless of course you lied about this, too.”

“It wasn’t a lie.” Chuck grumbled a few more unpleasant remarks as his head and shoulders appeared, something about finding out who the real crazy person was among them. It took him only a second to realize he needed to stop talking and keep up now that Casey had stepped away from the ladder. “Ouch. Must you do that? And it was ... withholding information. Isn’t that what you once told me?”

Casey’s eyes followed the strap to the kid’s neck, and he cocked a brow. “Really think now is the time to be a smart ass?”

The ‘I dare you’ was on the tip of his tongue, Casey would venture to bet, but Chuck had already learned his lesson. He glared instead.

“Good boy. You’re learning.”

“Why are we here?”

“You know damn well why,” Casey answered, looking around the workshop. The hayloft had a smell of old wood and musty straw, given that it had been closed-up for a few weeks. Casey walked over to the upper loft doors, Chuck forcibly trailing behind him, and pushed them open. The evening sunlight streamed in, washing the room in a golden light, illuminating the thousands of tiny dust motes in the air.

“Home sweet home, eh, pancake.” Casey stood back to get a good look, but nothing had changed. Worn leather-bound notebooks, which he already knew held meticulous drawings and calculations, nonsensical ideas and alterations scrawled in the margins, were stacked on a long pine table. “Is it one of those?”

“No.” Chuck crossed his arms over his shirt and avoided Casey’s eyes.

“All of these ..?”

“Just ... designs.”

That was the thing about his scientist. Inquisitive, busy mind.

Enveloped in a curious body.

Casey shook off the tightening in his gut, trying to keep his too-interested shaft from noticing. Instead, he turned his attention forward and had to sigh. Sitting on a wide table and taking up one end of the room was the crazy-ass flying machine. Or a prototype, the kid called it, since this one would never fly, but he’d use it to build the genuine one when he had worked out the flaws in the design.

Christ. Pigs would fly, too.

Walking Chuck to the back of the room, Casey turned to him and waited. The kid had stopped dead in his tracks in order to keep a rope’s length of distance. Well, that wasn’t going to work, twerp. Casey responded by beginning to wrap the length of strap around his fist. “Not scared, are you?”

Chuck swallowed. “Of course not.”

“Then come closer.”

Chuck’s lashes swept down – nerves- when all Casey could think of was what a shame it was to hide those big brown eyes. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, either. Holding the cord and pulling back would be useless, so they went from his side, clenched, before they relaxed when he realized combative wasn’t the look he should shoot for. “I thought you hated this place. Why are we up here?”

“I liked the bed.” Casey moved his hand further up the line, until his fingers skimmed the bare skin of Chuck’s neck. “Remember that?”

Chuck shuffled, his unsteady hands automatically lowering over the heat Casey knew was still pressing the front of his pants.

“But when I asked you where the manuscript was, you immediately looked up.”

“It was an accident.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” Casey rolled his eyes. “Now tell me where it is.” He refrained from saying fetch, because he had a strong suspicion Chuck wasn’t ready to see the humor in this. The last thing he wanted to hear from the kid was the order to stop and hand over the end of the tether. That would leave him no choice. He’d have to do it.

“Have – have you ever done this before?” Chuck’s eyes roamed down the halter and finally focused on Casey’s face. “With anyone else?”

Casey snorted. “We are not having this conversation.” He had, a few times, but he wasn’t about to share the intimate details with a pup who had barely been weaned for this kind of play. “There are some secrets, kid, where you have to draw the line.”

“Glad you feel that way.” Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets, obviously pleased with Casey’s faux pas. “The location of the written Cipher is one of them.”

“Muffin, you are just too sweet for words when you get all high-horse.” Resting his hip on the table, careful not to touch anything, Casey continued to wind the tether around his fist, drawing him in. “Now, come here.”

Chuck had no choice but to scuff along until his boots were right up against Casey’s. “You have me,” he said, giving Casey a view into his gold-flecked eyes. “Now what?”

Why he had not told him to go to hell, Casey had no clue. He only knew that after all of this, Chuck was still standing next to him, eye to eye and not afraid. Funny how the hard travel and run-in with Liam hadn’t changed the kid’s body, keeping his leaner muscles hard, a resilience Casey was beginning to see went deeper than the smooth surface. His shirt hung a little baggier on his tall frame, untucked over his jeans to hide himself, but he was still the same kid. With long slender legs that gave Casey all kinds of coarse thoughts.

“There. That’s better now.” Guiding him between his thighs and boots, Casey leaned in, his hand curling around the warm cheek. He felt the kid’s muscles straining as he fought for control, a sensation almost too good to bear, and Casey answered it by pressing his lips to his, kissing with intent, breathing in air that was all flavored with his clean scent. He could do whatever he wanted to that mouth, and he did, playing deep into him, bringing him hip to groin.

Oh, and right there. No need to hide it, kid.

Casey made sure to rub against him, and the sound that left his young boyfriend was a startled little protest at being noticed. Jesus. Like it was a problem. Wrapping his arm around Chuck’s back, the fingers traced the bumps along his spine, soothed and eased him as he held in the body warmth, and kept kissing him for as long as he liked.

Maybe forgetting about what was essentially a collar around his neck, Chuck splayed a hand over the V opening of Casey’s shirt and clenched, getting a handful of cloth and some chest hair.

So it is okay? Casey wanted to ask, slipping his tongue against his bottom lip. It doesn’t hurt, does it?

In that frightening way he had of reading his mind sometimes, Chuck immediately opened up for him, his body molding to his perfectly, a rangy frame fitting to Casey’s muscles. Casey tugged, gently yet firmly, compelling Chuck to stay pressed up against him. The hand on his spine moved up under the kid’s shirt, finding bare skin to bare skin, then moved down to cup his bottom.

Chuck made a soft noise, a breath of a sound into his mouth. Not looking to disappoint, Casey steered him with a big hand spread on his ass and turned the press to a slow, easy rub by shifting his hips, just a tiny movement. Now you get it.

The kid seemed to catch on, demonstrating those fine instincts of always knowing when to push back. Is that better, suile donn? And when Casey answered the push with a drag over the front of his pants, he was rewarded for the extra effort with low a groan into his mouth.

“You don’t feel mad at me,” Casey said, brushing his lips temptingly over his, wanting him to press in again.

“Part of me is.”

Casey believed he had a handful of the cooperative part, so he squeezed the curve of his buttocks and pressed in at the same time. Chuck took the invitation to push his tongue further into his mouth for him, wet and sweet, surprising Casey when he tugged at his shirt, trying to fumble with buttons before finally dragging his palm down the center of his chest. A few fingers slipped below the waistband, making Casey hitch a breath.

Good God, he liked this. It was miles bolder than the usual duck and cover routine, and whether Chuck knew it or not, it was like Casey’s bones would melt by what he was willing to show him. There were hints of it with the kid, a murky vision of the places he could take them, but never had it stood in the flesh and blood and need right in front of him.

It would kill him that he had to take a step back. “Easy, tiger,” Casey said. “Got some business first, don’t we?”

Chuck’s eyes went wide, his panting breaths filling the quiet place. “Not – what? But I thought that ... well, when you ... you kissed me!”

“Because I wanted to.” Casey focused on him, eyes calm now. Chuck’s eagerness was damn near impossible to ignore, but it was only fair to let him know a few rules, if Chuck was willing. “And then I said, not yet.”

Chuck frowned, halfway to a pout. It made him look young and sweetly stubborn, but there was no way in hell Casey would tell him that – only for the reason he may stop doing it. “How much longer do you plan on ... pulling me along?”

He actually managed to say it, though his face looked like it would combust.

“Better question, kid.” Reaching down, Casey settled his strong fingers over the hard shaft in Chuck’s pants. “You object?”

The question distracted him, or maybe it was the answer that did it. Chuck drew in a steadying breath and wet his lips. Casey liked to think they were still tingling. “I ... feel safe with you.”

“Mm. That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Chuck scrubbed a hand through his hair, making Casey focus on those long fingers. “For now ... yes,” the kid went on. More of a subtle warning, as if he knew holding the end of this damn leash had nothing to do with the man in control.

“Then tell me.” Casey looped a finger around the leather strap at his throat and exerted slight downward pressure. “I know it’s up here. Show me where it is.”

The sunlight caught his brown eyes like a spark. “Why do you need to know? And I never said it was here.”

“Are you really going to play this game?” Casey, using the finger hooked under the improvised collar, eased him a little closer. “You should want to get this part over with, pancake.”

Chuck was forced to step into him, despite looking like he resented the last yank. “Implying it gets better?” he said. His eyes cut down and to the side, not far from the east wall. “Because so far from my end, it’s a little -”

“Over there, huh?”

“What?”

“That’s where it is. Where you just pointed your eyes, boyo.”

“Giving up your life of crime has whittled away at your skill set, hasn’t it?” Chuck asked, rising on his toes. “Seems to me you’ve lost your touch if you think it’s that easy.”

“Lost my touch, eh?” Casey tipped his head in the direction Chuck had looked without taking his gaze from the kid’s face. “Because I have to ask myself, where would an enterprising yet naïve prodigy put something like that?”

“You’re not even close.”

Casey let go of the collar and gave the leash a tiny pull, signaling to walk with him over to the side of the room. Chuck obeyed, obviously miffed, and when they reached the spot next to the table, Casey casually kicked aside a thread-bare hooked rug. “Huh. Who knew that was there, eh, kid?”

“What there? I don’t see anything.”

“Looks like something to me.”

“They call it a rug. Put it back.”

“It’s a hiding place.”

“My, uh ....” Chuck pressed his lips together briefly, holding it in, and then blurted, “How did you do that?!”

Casey shrugged. “The planks. They don’t quite line up here, now, do they?” When Casey got down on his haunches for a closer look, Chuck forgot that he should follow, at least if he needed to breathe. “See the gap?”

“Gah. Thanks for the warning.” Giving him a dirty look, Chuck quickly got down on his knees next to him. “I told you. Nothing.”

“You can tell someone fiddled with the boards right here. Maybe ... fashioned a trapdoor and hoped no one would ever notice.” Casey aimed a look over at the kid and cocked a brow. “Wonder what’s under there?”

“Don’t –”

“Shut your cock holster, kid.” Skipping the fanfare, Casey flipped the trapdoor open. “If you even think of telling me you had no idea this was here ... well, I went easy on you down there earlier. Next time, you’ll really hate me for about a week when you try to sit down.”

Maybe it was his stinging ass, but at least the kid thought better of whatever he was getting ready to spill. It didn’t stop Chuck’s dark, expressive brows to draw down in a scowl. “Yes, I stole it,” he bit out. “Yes, I put it there. And yes, I should’ve told you they’d come looking.”

Casey patted his cheek. “Good boy.”

“God, you are a dick sometimes.”

Casey chuckled and pressed his lips to the kid’s temple, kissing lightly. To be honest, Chuck’s defiance aroused him. “I must be slipping. I’ll have to work on the rest of the times.”

Chuck slanted an annoyed look his way. “Okay, now that you’ve had your fun, close it.”

“Cut the yammering. I haven’t even looked.” Casey leaned over the opening and peered inside. The volume was just as Chuck had described it. At least six inches thick, the black cover was worn with veins in the leather giving the illusion of tree bark. Without opening it, he could see the pages had been damaged by water at some point, turning wavy and brown. “What’s so damn special about it, anyway?”

“Everything.” Chuck frowned at the hidden crevice and the giant tome within. “It’s stopping with me. I’m going to be the last one. No one else ... will have to go through what I did.”

Casey had tried to block out Chuck’s story, his childhood interrupted by strange cloaked men who carted him off to dig around in his brain. “I found the ... symbols in Liam’s papers from your father,” Casey said, resting his hands on his knees. “I can look at it, at least. They didn’t have any effect on me.”

Chuck reached out, hand curling on top of Casey’s, his dark eyes studying his face intently. “I’m asking you not to open it.” He squeezed down on his fingers, the warm skin supple and smooth. “Just leave it alone. Nothing good can come of it. Trust me on this.”

Casey felt his body unravel under his touch. Never had that happened. Curiosity beaten down by a dangerous power, as simple as this kid’s vulnerable expression, settling eyes on him that were pure, deep addiction.

“Sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus nonsense anyway,” Casey mumbled. Rising to his feet, he toed the trapdoor shut with enough force to make it bounce before it slammed down. “There. That make you feel better?”

“Immeasurably.” Chuck tilted his head at him and straightened to look Casey in the eyes. “Except for the hocus-pocus commentary.”

“Why?”

“Because ... you saw what I did,” the kid said. “What I can do.”

“The night at the lodge? The flames? Where my boots almost caught on fire, I suppose.” Casey grunted. “Hell, could’ve been a spark from the fire coming out of the flue, or –”

“Wait. You still don’t believe me ..?” Chuck held up a hand, sounding mortally wounded. “I told you about the Cipher – what it does to my head ... the abilities – and you still think I’m crazy?”

Casey didn’t mean to glance over at the flying machine right then. “Not now, kid.”

“I don’t believe this,” Chuck said, shaking his head. He began to pace. Too late, he remembered the leash, almost getting strangled until Casey let go. “Shit. Ow.”

“That was your fault.”

Chuck didn’t bother to argue that one. “Okay. I know how to fix this.” He gave Casey a look somewhere between hurt and pissed off before he got down on his knees. Flipping open the compartment, the kid pulled out the manuscript. “Not that I want to.”

Casey sighed. He was sick of this game. “Chuck, you don’t have to do this.”

“You’re wrong,” Chuck replied. Casey wondered what was going through that kid’s head to make his hands shake, but the idiot closed his eyes and braced himself. “You have to know.”

“Goddamn it. I’m ordering you to stop.” Oh, he was tempted to pick up that rope and just give him a yank.

“No. You think I’m nuts.”

“I ... you’ve got to admit,” Casey said as he rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s a lot for a man to accept.”

Chuck squinted up at him. “You’re right about that, Casey. That’s why I have to do this.”

“Get up.”

Ignoring him, Chuck ran his thumb down the edge of the withered brown pages. “It’s still there,” he said softly, his voice catching. “Found it.”

Casey tensed. No way should he let him do this. “Found what?”

“The notch. And apparently, a way to convert the skeptics among us.”

“Give me that damn thing,” Casey growled. “Better yet, put it away.”

“Um, sorry, too late.” Chuck opened the book, his brown eyes scanning a page. Abruptly, he sucked in a breath and bowed his head. “Just once. I can do this ... still ... I can – ouch.”

“Ouch?” Casey tapped him with the toe of his boot. “Listen to me, pancake. I’ve had about all I’m going to take with this little trick.”

Of course, he didn’t listen. For a moment, Casey wasn’t even certain the kid could hear his voice.

“Bartowski,” he said, putting some menace in his tone, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Chuck didn’t look up. His hands were still shaking, his head bowed and giving Casey a view of messy brown curls and sweat gathering on the back of his neck. Damnit.

“Hey, I’m about two seconds away from picking up the business end of the leash again. Get up.”

Chuck sucked in a gulp of oxygen and lifted his head, blinking furiously. “G-give me a second, okay?”

Two things happened almost at once.

The kid said, “Mary Catherine.” The birth name of Casey’s mother. And as soon as his brain registered the words, Casey became vaguely aware that his upper body was cold. Maybe not chilled, but his skin had cooled down considerably after the kissing and fondling from a few minutes ago.

Casey stared at him, baffled, for a full half minute before he dared to glance down at himself. He saw his shirt was soaked, clinging to his chest like a second skin. That wasn’t quite the thing that made him shiver. “What ... did you just do?”

“Wow. Um, sorry about that,” Chuck said sheepishly, climbing to his feet. He then dusted himself off and tried not to smile. “I’m a little rusty when it comes to the elements.”

-x-

“Something about ‘move your ass’ that seems confusing, Bartowski?”

“Are you okay?” Did Casey have any idea how fast he could walk when seriously annoyed? Sheesh, Chuck had to lope along just to keep up with him. It didn’t help that the grassy path had grown long in his absence. Considering it was nightfall, it would be easy to stumble, but his boyfriend wasn’t about to slow down.

“What the fuck was that?”

“You didn’t believe me. Now you do.”

Casey stopped in his tracks and swung around to face him. “How did you know?”

“I ... read it.”

“Read it,” Casey repeated bitterly. “I’m sure you did.”

“Here.” Reaching over, Chuck touched his soaked shirt that clung in perfect curves to his chest. Muscle hardened under his fingertip. He didn’t take it personally. “Written there. The Cipher ... showed me.”

Casey growled and pushed his hand away. “Son of a bitch.”

Chuck wasn’t sure how to interpret that, so he gave him a sort of half-smile. “Um, are you sure you’re okay? Honestly, though, it’s just water. It’ll dry. It wasn’t exactly supposed to happen that way.”

“Yeah, perfect, because that’s exactly what I was fretting about.”

“Okay, sarcasm. That’s a good sign, actually.”

“Why?”

“Because it means you’re holding it together,” Chuck said, touching Casey’s forearm. “Can I get you a drink of water or something when we get in the house?”

“Seems like you already did that.”

“Huh. That’s a good sign, too. Levity? It comes in handy when you need to deal with an event you can’t explain.” Without waiting for a reply, Chuck lifted Casey’s shirt to give it a little flap, exposing a few inches of smooth belly skin. “I’ll see if I have any extra shirts in my dresser. Though, I should warn you, buttoning it up is optional.” He gave a wheedling grin.

“That was nothing out the ordinary.” Casey didn’t sound so sure of himself, merely irritated as he slipped his hat off and began to pace back and forth in the grass “It was ... rain or a bucket of water.”

“Well, if you say so.” In that instant, Chuck was reminded he had to stay within six feet of him – the leather strap that was not a leash dictated it – so he began pacing right behind him. “Inside my loft,” he said carefully. “Starting from your skin and soaking up through your shirt. Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“Crazy. Even for you,” Casey muttered, slapping his hat on his thigh.

“Okay, do you feel better now?”

“How the hell did you do that?”

“Compared to the fire, water is not so much of a challenge, really. You’re mostly water. Did you know that?”

“Any part of me not look solid to you, princess?”

“Well, I ....” Chuck’s eyes drifted down, assessing. Hard thighs that looked good in jeans. The chambray shirt clinging to muscles that still had Chuck wondering how God decided that was fair. “Nooo, I’d say you, ah, have a slight advantage in that department.”

Casey seemed to take a minute to absorb that, and began walking towards the cabin. “God, I hate your brain sometimes. I’m never going to figure you out, am I?”

“Casey, stop,” Chuck said. He took a risk by digging his heels in, trying not to think about the lack of oxygen if Casey kept walking. “Please?”

“What?” At least Casey turned to look at him. And didn’t strangle him.

Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from Casey’s face. “If all of this is unfair to you, and you don’t think you can ... well, be with someone like me, that’s – it’s not okay, but I wouldn’t hate you ... too much. But I would understand. Casey, can you say something?”

He didn’t drop the end of the rope, Chuck noticed. He did turn his squint on him, however, waiting for Chuck to finish.

“I’m ... not exactly what you signed up for, am I?” Chuck went on cautiously. “I come with ... complications.”

“What are you getting at?”

“If ... you need to leave, you can.”

Casey drew in a breath, his nostrils flaring as his chest expanded. “I don’t know what happened here tonight,” he said, “but let’s set this straight between you and me, brown eyes. Just because of ... whatever the hell this is ..?” He paused, focusing on Chuck’s temple and gave the dirt a frustrated kick. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chuck nodded mutely. It was more than just the better odds of surviving if they were together. Even today, he had watched his lover stick around, take bullets for him, turn down a bribe, and stand still while something happened that he’d never be able to explain to anyone without being labeled a loon himself.

“You are a very brave man, John Casey.” Chuck lifted his hand and wrapped it around the length of strap between them, tight in his fist. “If you want, we can talk about it tomorrow ... though, I have to admit, I can’t explain all of it and the parts I can sound a bit ... well, crazy.”

Casey scoffed and shook his head. “Suit yourself,” he said after a few seconds of hard eye contact. Then he lowered his brows at the kid’s hand, wrapped on the strap. “What ... do you plan on doing with that, brown eyes?”

“This?” Chuck smiled shyly as he carefully pulled on the rope. “I’m giving you a choice, Casey. You can either move, or drop the end and stay there.”

Casey brought up his hand, twisted the rope one more time around his own fist, and waited.

“Decisive, I see.” Gingerly, Chuck pulled back, feeling it dig into his sweaty palm when it found the anchor. Casey didn’t even have the courtesy to budge an inch. “Wow. And you called me stubborn.”

“You do know that if you pull me in,” Casey said, smirking a little, “I have no choice but to show you where we were headed.”

Chuck scratched the back of his head and looked to the side, knowing he was blushing again. “Well, before today happened, I did have plans for you.”

“Seems to me I remember a lot less talking.” Casey eyed him for a moment. “I didn’t expect you to insist on my cooperation, kid. I just wish to hell you would’ve –”

“Not used broken cuffs. I know, please don’t bring it up again.”

“I was gonna say finished the damn job.”

Chuck’s eyebrows went up. “Oh. That job ....”

“Mm.” Casey lowered his gaze along the tether. “Why don’t you impress me, pancake?”

“How on earth do you make that sound intimidating?” Chuck asked. “Well, for starters, that means when I do this,” and the kid put a little more arm muscle into the next tug, “you should actually walk towards me.”

Casey flicked one single, searing look at him and bit back a smile. If that was meant to distract him, it might be working, along with the soaked shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. “Not going to behave, are you?”

“To be clear, what you’re asking for is the epitome of not behaving.”

“Asking? I don’t quite remember it that way.”

Chuck pushed a hand through his hair, and now he was blushing harder, darn it. “Can you come here?” He reached further down the line until he could curl his fingers around Casey’s hand. “I’m ... guessing that it never occurred to you that I could lead you ... back here if I wanted to. But can you not think about any of this until tomorrow?”

“You did lead me back here,” Casey said, “and tomorrow you may not like what I have to say.”

The kid wet his lips nervously, not yet ready to hear it. “And we can decide together, okay? But tonight ... I have to admit, I had other plans for you.”

Casey grunted and took a turn tugging the rope. “I think part of your devious plan was to trap me in your bed for a week.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Casey’s jaw at last relaxed, easing some of the kid’s tension. “All right, but you should know something, muffin.” He nodded, fingers sliding right up Chuck’s forearm, heating his skin against the night air. “Never gonna let go of this.”

As Chuck used the benefit of his incredibly long legs to catch up to Casey, it struck him, and the sensation was like sinking into a warm, lavender bath.

Never let go.

It had nothing to do with the leather rope.

-x-

Trying to wrestle control from Casey had to be about the same as grappling for the end of the tether. Just when the kid thought he might have a stronghold, Casey answered with another yank, and he’d feel the braided leather slip through his fingers. Or tighten ever so much on his neck. Rather persuasively.

“You coming, brown eyes?” Casey asked, pushing the door open.

“You didn’t even bother to look! You could’ve been dragging my lifeless corpse for all you knew!”

“Lifeless corpses don’t swear at me.”

“Well, there we have it from an expert.”

“You really want to talk about this now, princess?” Casey didn’t look back as he put a boot on the stairs and began climbing. “Move it.”

The rope went taut before it dug into the back of his neck. Chuck took the hint and began climbing the narrow stairs to his bedroom. Good thing the view going up was as good as the one coming, because it was easy to see the impression of his nicely curved ass from this vantage point. Bad that he wanted to sink his teeth into the meat of it –

“Trying to burn a hole through my pants, brown eyes?”

“What? I would never –” Chuck blinked and put on a sour look. “That was a little rude, you know?”

“Kid, nothing that’s gonna happen up here tonight has anything to do with good manners. Heh. And you didn’t stop walking, did you?”

“Are you – hey. It’s dark.” Standing a few steps beneath him, Chuck pawed the air. “What was that?”

“Unfortunately, my calf,” he heard Casey say under his breath.

Casey, and then Chuck, came to the top of stairs. The kid reached out blindly, caught hold of what felt like his sleeve, and hung on. “How can you see anything?”

The bedroom only had one window, and now that the sun had set, he could barely make out the outline of the bulky form next to him. That wasn’t going to work at all. The kid was slightly shame-faced to even think it, but being able to watch his impassive lover lose some of that unwavering control? The burn Casey had laid on his backside – bastard – had nothing on that.

“Gonna give me something to see?”

“Well, uh, the lamp is right there – next to the –”

“Got it.” A match burst. Lighting the lamp, Casey adjusted the flat wick until it cast a dim golden glow around the bed. Chuck looked over at him and couldn’t help but notice his shirt, moisture making it cling against his body, revealing every movement. Casey sat down on the mattress and began to methodically kick off one boot. “I know you might have a problem with sitting, but you don’t mind if I take a load off, do you?”

The way his blue eyes lingered on Chuck and nothing else gave him an unmanly quiver. “I’m fine, thank you.” He crossed his arms over his chest, one way, then reversing when that didn’t feel quite right. “Not wasting anytime, I see.”

The second boot landed on the floor with a thud. Casey eased down, leaning back on his elbows, his hands scooping up two pillows to prop up his shoulders. Since he stayed towards the foot of the bed, his long legs draped off the edge of the mattress, stretching out a little. “Just getting comfortable so I can enjoy the view,” he said, and gave him another thorough look. “Come a little closer.”

In his hand was the other end of the strap. Casey had the ability to bring him closer without wasting words. But to Chuck’s curiosity, he hadn’t done that. Instead, he kept one arm draped over his waist, the rope loosely wrapped around his fist, and moved his shoulder to work out some kinks.

Not that being on the other end of a tether had ever happened to the kid – now, that he’d remember - but instincts told him his boyfriend wanted to test his reaction before he took it any further.

Chuck swallowed, and with arms staying firmly locked over his shirt, strolled up closer and stopped within a few feet of the bed. “This isn’t exactly how I had planned things to go – if we were continuing this morning? Me, standing here. You, lying there –”

“Less clothes, the way I remember it.”

“And, yes, that too.” Chuck’s eyes drifted down Casey’s torso to his jean-clad thighs – before he remembered himself and dragged them back up to his face. “Um ... need any help with that?”

Casey contemplated the offer for about a half second. “Lose the shirt, kid,” he ordered while one foot skimmed up the side of Chuck’s leg. “All the way. Now.”

“Me?”

“Mm. Do it.” Casey slanted him a grin and shifted his back, demonstrating that he was settling in to watch.

This wasn’t the first time. More than once, Casey took his ‘boyfriend liberties’ to heart by stripping him before the kid could even stutter out a word. Other times, he seemed content to sit back and keep an eye on the diversion.

Like now? Why was that? He should’ve witnessed his fair share of skin and bone and bruises.

Chuck cleared his throat. The first time, he was self-conscious of every inch of skin he exposed to a man like Casey, only because he had never been completely at ease with the way he had morphed into a man. His legs and arms were gangly, uncoordinated. His height made him knock his head into doorways and buggies on a regular basis. Late bloomer, Ellie called it with a smile, a stick with curls until he was in his early twenties.

The hungry, appreciative look in Casey’s eyes told the kid he didn’t mind any of that.

“All right ... I guess. If that’s what you want.” Chuck ducked his head, needing to break eye contact because he was certain he’d do anything Casey asked when he eyed him that way, and began to work on the buttons. “I think you’ve seen this before.”

“I wanna see it again.” He gave a little tug on the strap that Chuck translated to move it.

“You know that if you strangle me, this will be less fun. For both of us, but more so for me.”

“Is there a way to do this with less noise, kid?”

“Pushy,” Chuck muttered, and getting to the bottom of the placket, the shirt fluttered open. Looking down, he felt heat rise up his neck to his forehead. It had everything to do with his already semi-erect cock, pressing against the restraint of denim, and oh. Very visible now that he had parted his shirt.

Casey gave a low wolf whistle. “Pretty. Got something for me, eh?”

“I – I assume we’re not talking about the shirt anymore?”

Casey grunted. “The one you’re still wearing?”

“Patience is virtuous, you know.”

“So were you, but I took care of that little problem, didn’t I?”

Chuck gave him sullen look. It was not the time to bring up Bryce. “All right, we’ll do it your way, I guess. You’re the one holding onto the rope at the moment.”

“Leash.”

That made him squirm. Just like the first smack on his ass cheek had sprung right down to his privates. Didn’t his body know it wasn’t supposed to find that interesting?!

Not wanting to argue, he slipped the shirt down his shoulders, pulling it free and tossed it on the top of his nearby dresser. God, he had dropped a lot of weight in the past few weeks – being kidnapped by a maniac wasn’t fun times – and even though he’d kept his wiry muscles and broad shoulders, the kid never quite felt like his body earned the hard gaze Casey gave him.

“Just to let you know, I don’t think I can handle brutal commentary. I mean, up until three days ago, I was still a -”

“C’mere, brown eyes.” His deep voice rumbled, vibrating through him. Chuck felt a gentle yet convincing tug on the rope. The boot that traveled up his pant leg, hooking behind his knee to pull him in, ensured he followed the lead. “Need to see you.”

“And now you do,” Chuck said lamely, because he always felt there wasn’t much to see. His hair was longer than he usually kept it, and messy as a haystack in a cyclone. Gawky and tense couldn’t be that attractive.

Casey sat up, steered Chuck so that he stepped between his knees, outspread and waiting for him. Raising his head, he stared into Chuck’s eyes, peering there intently as he brought a hand up to the kid’s bare waist, caressing the skin with the pad of his thumb. “Bartowski?”

“Uh, yes?”

“If you don’t move your hands,” Casey said quietly, sliding his palm over to scoop up one wrist, “I’m going to have to use the rope to make sure you keep them behind your back.”

“What? You wouldn’t da –” Chuck was suddenly very glad he remembered to shut his mouth before the word dare slipped out. His ass still stung a little from the prior time he was stupid enough to doubt him. “See? Hands. Up in the air. I’m giving up on covering any pertinent bits of anatomy, okay? Sheesh.”

“Like that erection you’re sporting, tiger?”

“Oh, God,” Chuck said. Thanks for the reminder. It took everything not to cross his wrists over his crotch again like he had a minute ago. “Please tell me you dragged me up here for more than checking out the merchandise?”

“My merchandise, isn’t it?”

Chuck opened his mouth to point out the laws of possession, but the hand that settled on the small of his back felt heavy, warm on his skin, the fingers stroking a bit. And considering Casey’s forearms were the size of the kid’s biceps, Chuck figured he should just shut up, as it meant he wasn’t going anywhere just yet.

“I want to check something.”

“Not – hey.” Chuck flinched and sucked in a breath, his bare chest jerking at the soft touch. “What was that for?”

“Still hurt?” Casey’s thumb drifted down over his ribcage on his right side, testing the area that had taken the brunt of a very big boot. “Have to say, it looks about as good as new.”

It was no secret his ribs were still giving him a twinge after the work of the two dead beat drunks on the trail. Seeing that Casey wanted to double check his handiwork, Chuck’s hands clenched at his sides and he forced himself to stay still for him.

“I had a good doctor, I guess.”

Now that was something he never saw. His lover flushed with quiet pleasure at the compliment, though it was gone a heartbeat later. “Just painkillers.”

Chuck’s hand automatically settled on Casey’s thick shoulder, his fingers clutching at a prod that found a sore spot. “You said ... you learned that from the doctor you traveled with,” he asked tentatively. “When you ran away from home?”

“He was a medicine show-man. Closer to being a thief than a doctor.”

“That was before you joined the Union Army?”

“That’s right.” Casey moved his hand around to the left side, lower, and poked the bottom of his ribcage. “You okay there, kid?”

Chuck tried to push his hand away. “But you learned enough from the show-man?”

“Enough, yes. Shut it. Answer the question.”

“Well, which one should I do?” Chuck tried to waggle his eyebrows humorously, but Casey just gave him a bored look. So much for trying to find out about his past. “That side feels perfect. It’s only – ow. It’s fine, really.”

“Good.” Casey’s leaned in and his lips whispered along the bare skin above the jean’s waistband, slung low on Chuck’s hips. That made the kid shiver. “Knew you’d heal right up, princess,” Casey murmured, and then smiled up at him deviously. “Just one of the things I love about young ones.”

“Really. You sound like you have a list.”

“Well, one other thing.” Casey shifted, moving his body closer. Somehow knowing Chuck would try to step backwards at the tease in his voice, he slid his hand in between them, cupped him. His intimate knowledge of it helped him find the head unerringly through the front of his jeans, fingers rubbing the ridge. “Strong cocks is the other. Yeah. Nice. I suppose you want me to kiss you when I do this? Or did you have something else in mind, pancake?”

“Haven’t – ah - even ... thought of it.”

“No?” Casey took hold of his cock without fumbling, firmly curling his fingers against his denim-covered dick. “Even when I do this?” Oh. His hand seemed huge, covering every inch of him, stroking until the kid heard a hungry noise from his throat, his hips slowly beginning to move and rock.

“Casey ....” Chuck shut his eyes and dug his fingers in deeper to Casey’s shoulders. His legs already felt watery. “That is so not fair.”

“I was right about that. You do have something for me.

“Ah.”

“There?” When Casey slid his fingers over him, the kid was reminded of Gun Cleaning 101 without the polishing cloth and bullets. He knew how to use those big hands, showing it with a possessive touch and squeeze over Chuck’s substantial bulge, knuckles stroking up his length, then down to his balls.

“Jesus ....”

“Right there. Proves the theory on young ones, kid.”

“D-didn’t... you tell me you turned forty on your last birthday? Should I be worried?”

Casey drew back and laughed. “Never had that problem, pup. And you would be the one to know. I think the only things you should be concerned about are how quickly you’re going to be naked ... and that leash around your neck.”

With the hand on his cock, Chuck had almost forgotten about the collar, and now he noticed Casey had never released the end of it. Maybe that’s why he never felt the connection between them had been broken.

“I’m not concerned,” he said, and moaned softly when he was rewarded with a stroke. “Dang you ....”

When Casey reclined back on the mattress again, he didn’t unravel the tether by even an inch. Wisely, Chuck followed and leaned over him, placing his hands on either side of Casey’s head. Seeing the kid shadow him, the larger man’s face relaxed into a smirk. “Good. Then you’re not concerned with anything else I plan on doing to that sweet little ass tonight ... there?”

Chuck made a little mmph sound. It was difficult to be mad when Casey’s hand covered his cock. “Your - Oh. You sound confident. Is that to go with your charm – ah – and modesty?”

“Yeah, charm this,” Casey muttered under his breath. An obscene grab of his own anatomy punctuated the expression.

“Sometime tonight, I hope,” Chuck said honestly. Now that Casey had found his sense of humor again, the kid’s body loosened up, save for the little tremor along his arms at the thought of his suggestion.

“So you’re ready to show me you can be repentant?”

Chuck lowered his face, eyes directly over his. “I’m not sure yet.”

“No?”

“First, I think we need to talk about the fact you owe me a new headboard.” Chuck glanced at it and shifted his eyes back to Casey, trying not to smile.

Casey drew a hand ever so lightly down the center of Chuck’s chest, and then traced a small circle at his lower belly. “Know what you owe me?”

“What?”

“Your mouth. On me.” Casey’s eyes centered on the kid’s while he grabbed a handful and squeezed, causing a gasp. Pleased with the sound, he slid his palm up Chuck’s bare sternum, sending a prickle of heat over his skin. “Or did you forget?”

Chuck always assumed there was a limit to the amount of blood a cock could hold – physics and all - but hearing Casey’s voice growl in that sexy register pushed his own reaction more insistently against his jeans. Maybe it was the fact he never figured another man would need him in that way.

At that moment, he would do whatever Casey wanted.

Starting with his clothes. Wasting no more time, Chuck reached over and latched onto the collar of Casey’s chambray shirt. As he began to tug at the buttons, Casey’s hand closed on his wrist, stopping him.

“Drop the pants, kid.”

Chuck flashed a quizzical look. “Straight to business, I see. Okay, if you insist.”

He tried to move his hand down to the front of Casey’s jeans, and felt the grip stiffen. “Your pants, brown eyes,” his boyfriend told him. “I want you naked when you do this.”

“You, ah, like to have your prey stripped down first, I’ve noticed.” Smiling a little, Chuck clutched at Casey’s shirt placket one more time before the larger man handed his wrist back to him. “Ever hear the saying, all’s fair in love and war?”

“Ever hear the saying, move it, or I’ll tap your ass for you again?”

“You’re not kidding about this, are you?”

“Always knew you were too smart.” Casey grinned and gave him a few more feet of the strap, letting him back up. “There. That’s it. Want to see it all.”

“You’re next,” Chuck said, knowing he better get moving. He had to bend to take off his boots, bringing one up off the floor to tug at the heel. When he did, Casey wrapped a foot around his thigh, steadying him.

“Do I need to put my hand back where it was? Keep you from falling?”

“That’s not exactly help when you do it that way,” Chuck mumbled. After he got the boots off, he began to unbutton his jeans, still feeling Casey’s watchful eyes like fire coursing over every inch of his long legs up to his naked torso. He didn’t want to think how obvious his erection probably was, or how exposed he would be in a half minute from now. Crap.

“Bartowski.” Casey spread his thighs for Chuck to come stand between them again. “Is there a problem?”

“Just, uh, give me one second.” Feeling awkward and giddy and a thousand things he wasn’t sure Casey would understand, he held up a finger stupidly – wait here – and turned around. “Okay. Right. Pants,” the kid said and went back to working on the buttons.

His fingers briefly stilled when he heard a snort of disbelief from behind him. “Tell me that’s a joke, cupcake.”

“Sorry, no,” Chuck said over his shoulder.

“You do know, I’ve seen everything you’re trying to hide?”

“I know ....” He straightened a little bit, sheepishly, hooked his thumbs on the waistband, and began to shimmy the jeans down his narrow hips. “Doesn’t mean I’m used to doing it.”

“So you need more practice getting naked for me?”

“Wow. Really putting on your problem-solving hat, aren’t you?” No other way than to just do it, though. So Chuck let out a breath and yanked the jeans down to his calves, almost stumbling over his own feet to get out of them. “Is there a reason you’re not doing this?”

Apparently taking in the view of his backside, Casey chuckled, enough to get an immediate self-conscious blush on Chuck’s cheeks. “More fun to watch you.” He paused. “You might be on to something, brown eyes.”

Not turning, he dared to look down, at once mortified. His cock was leaking, so erect it brushed his belly. “Wh-what do you mean?”

“The scenery from this side?” Casey’s bare foot came up to poke the kid’s left butt cheek. “Hate to tell you kid, but the sight of that pink ass mighta made me harder.”

“It’s not pink,” Chuck argued, fighting the urge to check.

“It is now.” Behind him, he heard the mattress rustle as Casey shifted his weight. “Get close enough, I can see a perfect handprint.”

“Must you tease me?”

“Come here,” Casey said, and the kid could just picture him grinning. There was more rustling, and suddenly fingers brushed over the curve of his buttock, forcing Chuck to jolt and suck in a breath. “Heh. So it’s just my imagination?”

“Jerk.”

“Back up.”

“N-no.” Chuck dug his heels in and folded his arms. “Geez. Still can’t believe you ... did that.”

“It’s called spanking. You needed it. And here, I’ll help you, then.”

Chuck started to tell him he had enough help, thanks, until he felt the leather collar dig in to the front of his throat. It didn’t hurt, but it did get his attention. “That was uncalled for.”

“Then back up.” Instead of tugging it again, Casey bent over and wrapped a thick arm around his hip, hauling Chuck backwards. Once the kid was settled between his knees, Casey held him there and made a low noise in his chest. Oh, God. Chuck wanted to cringe at what he had to be looking at. “Anyone ever tell you that ass is as sweet as the strawberry pie you like so much?”

“Well, no one has ever specifically – hey ... what’s that?” Chuck stopped wriggling within the confines of the arm caged around his middle. Warm ... lips? “Oh ... that’s ....”

“Heh. Taste just like it, too, kid.”

“What ... what are you doing?”

“Like how I heal you, muffin?” Casey asked, and his lips grazed the dip in his back, then moving down to trail over the top of his buttocks. “Maybe you want me to kiss these welts, eh? Wanna ask for that?”

“I won’t,” Chuck managed. But oh, hell, obstinance was slipping fast. It was impossible to see what Casey was doing; he could only know by the drag of lips, the light touch of his tongue along skin that was already deeply sensitized.

The kid closed his eyes, his jaw flexing, and he told himself he was not going to move – not going to do it. Except ... curling his toes when he felt how Casey’s tongue played along his lower spine. That was acceptable. Nothing else –

Chuck’s head snapped up. Pleasure surrounded him as something damp and firm and wet traced his crease.

“Ow ... there,” Chuck heard himself whimper. “God ....”

“Better be careful, kid. You don’t want me thinking you like this, do you?” His tongue stroked light as a bird’s wing, running between his buttocks. Despite wanting to feel it deeper in his ass, his boyfriend pretended he didn’t sense it, or the uncontrollable shudder the kid tried to repress. “What do you want, Chuck?”

Another warm lick, and Chuck arched backwards without thinking, his fingers fisting. “Okay ... okay,” he breathed. “I’ll let you do that again.”

“Bossy little shit,” Casey murmured, mirth in his deep voice. “Want me to keep going? Better than what you got earlier on your ass, eh, kid?”

“Maybe I should turn around,” Chuck asked, giving a half-hearted attempt to twist his hips free. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“Almost as much as you, pancake. Come here.”

“Hey, I -” Chuck broke it off there with a gasp, just as he felt something soft and wet press to the mound of his left butt cheek, the flesh still tingling from Casey’s hand. As Casey caressed the welt with the tip of his tongue, a big thumb played in the crease, up and down, a little deeper on each pass. This was another kind of torment altogether.

“You like that idea, hmm? Someday you’ll have your own ideas, won’t you.” Casey patted his bottom, just hard enough to remind him of the sting. “Not too hot, is it?” He palmed his buttock, squeezed and spread, moving his fingers into the tight channel of his ass. They rubbed deeper, slow and steady, and the kid’s arms drew taunt, his body stretching backwards into the touch. It was just. Oh.

“God, Casey ... you ....”

“What’re you thinking, brown eyes?” One hand stayed on his ass, clamped down to hold him, but only that. “Something like this?”

“This?” What was he doing?

Something stiff and wet, a slippery finger from his mouth, thrust a little deeper between his buttocks, down until he found the pucker of his ass. “There? Your hole need some attention?” A fingertip dipped in, out, testing. “That what you wanted, kid?”

“Shit ... you –” At a poke that went deeper, Chuck gave into it, making a noise between a yelp and a meep. His testicles drew up and every muscle down to his cock jumped. Holy fuck. Why Casey still held his buttock still with his other hand, he had no clue. He wasn’t going anywhere, unless slamming himself backwards counted. “John ... do that.”

“Easy, kid.” Casey chuckled and withdrew, but not before he cupped his balls like he owned them. “You’re not ready for anything else yet, even though your cock is telling you otherwise. Give you more of that without the slick, and I’ll owe you an apology tomorrow.”

“You – you say that like you don’t owe me one already.”

“Yeah? Next time, you’ll think twice before you go off half-cocked in twelve ways.” Fingers pinched his ass, deliberately staying clear of patch where the kid knew there was a mark. “That was your lesson. We’ve got it behind us now – you more than me, heh – and there’s no need to be crotchety about it.”

“Says the man who will be able to sit at the breakfast table.”

“You’ll be fine.” The hand was now on his back stroking. Touching his lips to those marks, the kid felt another shudder travel through his limbs. He then heard Casey say in a rough voice, “Turn around.”

Casey’s thigh nudged him, and when Chuck didn’t immediately pivot around, he felt a short tug on the strap. “I was moving, okay? Just – be patient.”

“Always gonna be this shy, aren’t you?” Casey wondered, more to himself than to Chuck. Before the kid could think too much about it, Casey clamped his hands on his hips and turned him around, and the next thing Chuck saw was his cock standing out stiffly in the snug space between them, bobbing front and center to Casey’s eyes. “Not that I’m ever going to complain about it.”

“Oh, no.” Chuck looked up at the low ceiling, his long lean, body bare in all ways to him, and let out a slow breath. Great. Try hiding that. “Stop smiling,” he grumbled.

“How would you know I’m smiling? You’re not even looking at me.”

“Because I know, okay?”

“So look at me.”

In a small way, Chuck didn’t want to keep his eyes open, feeling far too exposed to this man and his own desire. Casey’s mouth was close; he could feel the hot breath washing over his skin from tip to balls. “I ... thought you wanted me to finish what I started this morning.”

“I changed my mind.”

“You did?” Chuck scrunched his brows, puzzled. “Why would you do that?”

There was a scant moment to wait, to think, before Casey gave him the answer. He did it by looking up at him, a slow smirk crossing his face, and gently bit him on the thigh. “So that I can do this.”

“Ow.” Chuck tried to jerk back and the unexpected touch of teeth. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Want me to kiss that, too, and make it better, I suppose?”

“Um – oh sh-” His protest ended in a gasp. He could only blame Casey, since he moved his head to flick his tongue on Chuck’s crown. “Okay, for the record, that’s nicer.”

“Well, this is where we put an end to your good manners.” Casey closed his hand tight on his prick, running his smooth fingers all the way around. “Though I expect you won’t fight me as hard on this.” He just bent in further, opened his mouth, and wrapped hot lips around the head, sucking it good and hard. As a few achy inches disappeared between Casey’s lips, Chuck decided then and there that manners might be overrated. Pulling back, Casey purposely teased him by licking the tip, tasting him, his soft lips curving over the broad head.

Jesus. Chuck felt his own mouth begin to water, his cock swell a little in the perfect warmth and wetness. Casey had done this before, putting his mouth on him, but it didn’t stop the kid from being light headed as he watched his lover go back down, lips dragging along the rigid skin. And so slow, again.

Maybe he had to still get used to the fact that this was happening, but saying that it felt great was not even close. Particularly when the kid felt the looping soft swish of his tongue, circling the rim of the crown, over the slit. It was like he was everywhere, on every inch of his tingling skin. His world constricted yet stretched into that mouth, the heat around him, wanting to melt at the way he brought his lips tighter around the shaft. No longer only tasting; he was sucking, fingers sliding under the balls to lift them, just releasing the tiniest pressure.

“Oh, hell.” Chuck wasn’t exactly sure if that was a request, but his hips bucked forward, pushing him deeper into Casey’s lips. He tried not to force his cock to the back of his throat – he experienced what that was like - but knew he just did. Now, he really did owe him an apology. Afterwards. “Jesus ... John ... yeah.”

Oh, God. I really should not think how he got so good at this.

“Mmmhmm.” Encouraging him with a hum, low, deep rumbles, Casey moved into his thrusts, then away, those hands on the kid’s thighs urging him on. When he licked up the long shaft, he wrapped his lips around the tip for a sucking kiss.

“I – that’s ... oh, fuck ....” Chuck squirmed, hands opening and closing on his shoulders. Fingers wrapped around the base of his cock, and that was just evil. He had to know he couldn’t come with his hand holding him like that. So hot, so wet. Deep rough sounds pushed from the kid, damn near like a hymn, like a dark prayer without words except Casey’s name and saying please -

“Gonna raise the dead, boyo, if you keep making those noises,” Casey whispered, and his lips slid right back down, along the curve of his cock, down to the thickest part of him. Chuck couldn’t help it, his ass clenched, and then a sweet moan vibrated around his length. Casey gave another lick and moved back, staring up at him and getting a good look, amused with the reaction. “Ready for the next step, my brown eyes?”

-x- End Chapter Twenty-One Sins Fell Angels-x-


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Two

-x-

Over the past twenty years of being nearly a loner, Casey had learned a couple thousand things about himself. One somewhat significant. When he first came to manhood, he spent some time climbing both sides of the fence before he settled on his preference. Not settled, really. Embraced it whole hog. He knew all along, but it was as if his body and brain needed to experiment with the theory. Make sure it was the way his instrument was strung, and he admittedly played on it a bit. Just to test it out.

In the beginning, there were lots of women. Confounding, too. There was no explaining how God designed that puzzle. Pleasing one required using the same careful calibration as a Swiss watchmaker. Damn tricky, that was. Made up of tiny, hard to get to pertinent parts, and even after delicate disassembly and applying the proper function, a man never really knew if he’d would get the thing ticking or not.

Pleasing a man, he found out pretty quickly, was not nearly as fiddly. More like pulling back on the hammer and pumping the trigger. There was no guess-work and fumbling under the elusive folds for the pretty bits. Having the same equipment, he knew how he liked to be handled, and found simple reciprocation usually brought it back tenfold. Immense pleasure.

Then there was the kid.

There was no accounting for that. He was the hammer, the trigger, and the marching band’s bass drum as it passed by in a Fourth of July parade, making a man’s insides thrum and quiver. Hearing him, standing there in front of Casey and sweet as anything, his body couldn’t help but ripple.

Casey shifted, one big hand stroking him from abdomen to his balls, waiting for Chuck to do anything but blink down at him in a daze. He was glad it ended up he was seated on the bed, thighs spread just wide enough for a narrow pair of hips to fit between them. They did, too. Funny, because it was as if the kid was made for that spot. It was only natural, then, to suck his cock. Hell, the proximity alone dictated it.

“Next step? No, no, no …,” Chuck whispered, edging in, as if having Casey’s lips on the crown wasn’t close enough, “this is what I r-really like.”

Casey, knowing he was being watched very carefully by a pair of dark eyes, tilted his head back enough to look up at the kid. He was right about that, and when their eyes met, Casey drew him in slowly. When he saw Chuck’s knees buckle, he gave it with a cherry on top, hollowing his cheeks on the upward drag.

“More, brown eyes?” he asked. “You like that?” Then Casey added a flick of his tongue on the sensitive underside, finding the tiny indentation under the head, and showed him what he meant.

Chuck didn’t answer at first, only letting out a groan. The unintelligible noise meant a few things at once, Casey guessed. ‘Keep going’ and ‘you do know how this is going to end, right?’

Frankly, he didn’t mind at all. After the other shots to the head he took today?

“Mmph – okay ... okay. We c-can do this now.”

What? Was the kid giving himself a pep talk?

Though Casey was growing quite fond of the babble that came with this, Chuck suddenly bit down on the inside of his mouth. Maybe he heard how he sounded and knew Casey would love to play it back for him later, especially while he coaxed him with his face against his damp neck. Fucking him, asking him to say it again. Maybe it was to keep himself from coming, and hell, that never works, cupcake.

“God, yeah,” Chuck said in a breath, jutting his hips out, pushing his length even further against Casey’s tongue. ‘Course, the stiff cock pressing into his mouth had his own johnson twitching and oh, hell. How easy would it be to just tip Chuck over, dive into him, and fuck him until the rest of the bed fell apart. Take nothing at all to do it.

Still, Casey chose to rub his stubble on Chuck’s thigh, knowing that would get a different kind of reaction.

“Casey ... please ….” Perhaps the kid wasn’t sure what he begged for, but those long legs flexed under his grip, his hands sliding onto Casey’s shoulders. “Can I ... tell you s-something? Oh, wait. Don’t answer! Um, oh shit oh shit – I’ll just talk, okay?”

Casey couldn’t help it. His chest began to shake with laughter, and he couldn’t recall if that had ever happened when he was bringing a man to the brink and over.

“You’re ... really r-really good at that.”

It was getting impossible not to say something. All Casey could do was push back and look up at him, his hand taking over where his lips left off, lazy strokes since he felt the kid vibrating. Settle, pancake, you’ll get yours. “And you’re really good at listening right now, aren’t you?”

“I ... don’t know. Ah. Maybe?”

“There’s ... something else I wanted to show you. Remember?”

“Now? Are you s-sure?” Chuck asked, a bright flush on his cheeks. “I mean, you were, uh – and I was ... well, I was just ... ah. Okay, you have my attention.”

“Good thing, stud.” Casey looked down, past the arch of Chuck’s perfect cock, to the hand he had resting on the kid’s thigh. All this time, Casey thought having the kid’s prick in his mouth, or anywhere he’d put it, was the closest he would come to Heaven. God had standards, after all, and John Casey would bet his prettiest Colt he had done some things to have his ticket permanently revoked.

In a way, Casey was wrong about that. Having a rawhide strap in his hand to steer the most beautiful man he had laid eyes on and the kid willing to follow brought his boots right up and knocking on the Pearly Gates.

What he did next wasn’t a tussle for control, it was a matter of reminding the kid of his circumstances. How things would be. For as long as Chuck allowed.

One big hand gave him a tug. Not hard, but enough. “Now are you ready?”

“Hey. Ow.” Chuck frowned and pulled back, not realizing he took the few inches of slack with him. “Yes, but something tells me we’re not talking about the same thing.”

“Too tight for you, kid?”

Chuck started to put his hands in his pockets, rolled his eyes at himself, and instead folded his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Good, ‘cause I could make it tighter, if you’d like.”

“Jerk.” Chuck looked off towards the wall, self-conscious deliberation taking over. “Never said that.”

Casey smiled and sat back to eye the younger man’s oddball movements and gestures. Licking his lips, rolling his sweaty hands along his arms. Oh, brown eyes, you have no idea what you want. You need so much practice at this, don’t you? Have so much to learn about asking.

Not that Casey wanted him too savvy. Not all the way. The act of teaching wouldn’t be nearly half as much fun if Chuck found his balance. It was that fumbly, perfect state of goodness that Casey hoped would never leave him.

The unsteadiness made Casey want to do something about it, so he lowered his head and licked the tip, back and forth. Teasing, but so what? Chuck relaxed, pushed toward him, the slow rocking matching Casey’s gradual slide up and down, proving he could shut up when all else failed. Casey didn’t stop until he got the inhalation he was looking for.

“Yeah, see how good that feels? There’s other things that feel good, too, kid.”

“I’m rather f-fond of this.”

“Getting your cock sucked? That what you’re trying to say?” Casey licked and moved, and then, what the hell? Why not? He let his teeth scrape along tight skin. “Like that?”

“Oh, that’s ….” Chuck squeezed his shoulders until Casey actually felt discomfort. “Jesus ....”

“Shh. You’re still shivering.” Casey pulled back another time, causing a little frustrated sound. “You’ll like this, too. You just have to trust me, pancake.”

“Oh, I will trust you,” Chuck muttered, “says the man with almost welts on his ... well, you know.”

“Still mad about that,” Casey asked, grinning as one hand slid around to massage an ass cheek. “Feels good to me.”

“Try it from my side sometime.” Chuck gave him an irksome look and loosened the hold of those long fingers. “Besides, n-not to criticize your technique or anything, of course .... But it’s just that ....” He trailed off, not able to say Casey has what Chuck would call ‘focus issues.’

“Impatient tonight, kid?” Casey’s hand, the one with the end of the leather rope wrapped around his palm, dropped to cup Chuck’s balls. Fondle, roll them around a little like he was testing the weight of ammunition. Yeah, nice. Then his thumb roved up to rub slowly along the crease. “Even … for this?”

“Ah .... You-might-be-getting-better.” Chuck closed his eyes and arched backwards against the feel of his crease being breached by a big thumb, a move that made Casey’s lips curve into a smile. “Oh ..,” the kid whimpered. “That’s ... mm.”

Want that to slide right into you, huh?

Not ready to give into it quite yet, Casey brought his thumb back down the tight channel, skimming past his hole until he reached his balls. His palm cupped.

Chuck sucked in a breath. A man couldn’t help but be tense when his jewels were in a grip-lock, especially one that the kid knew had that much restrained strength behind it. “Casey ... you ... what’reyoudoing..?”

“Next step,” Casey said, pulling the rope taut, getting some of its length between two hands. “I thought I’d start here.”

“What ..?”

Casey kept fondling the kid’s balls, rolling them between his fingers, and then carefully, so gently, scraped the leather strap over them, dragging it in between those strong legs. Touching the balls, Casey rubbed back and forth, slow friction, then moving side to side. “Like the feel of that? Or is it too rough on you, pancake?”

Chuck’s toes curled. “Oh,” was all he could say.

The newness of it all was still a balancing act. What would he like, not like, how would the kid’s body respond if he did this or that. It was the kind of hands-on exploration Casey loved. Doing it with Chuck dumped fire in his blood.

“N-no ... mm. Oh ... there.” Chuck’s fingers began to clamp down in rhythm to each scrape. The immediate abandonment to it was hot as hell, hotter still that he probably didn’t even know that. Casey kept telling himself he was only doing it to make Chuck feel good, but hell and damn it all, watching him made his every muscle clench from his balls to his feet. “It’s just ... I wanted you to finish ....”

“You forget I’m holding the other end of this?” He gave a small tug, making the kid’s eyes widen, sharpen their focus. God, look at you. Stubborn. So willing.

“A little hard that time, don’t you think? Oh.” Chuck swallowed as Casey started to wind his end lightly around the kids’ heavy balls. “Oh God .... Wait. Ah. That’s good ....”

“Not too tight?” Looking up, Casey gave his neglected dick a stroke through his jeans, then another. Pretty soon they’d have to switch things up. But he couldn’t stop yet. “This’ll be good, too, princess.”

“You’re not done ... using that?”

“Got somewhere to go tonight?”

“Um, well ... I don’t th-think so,” Chuck said, parting his lips just as Casey gave him one more soft chafe along his balls. The friction was hell and euphoria all at once. Casey already knew that. “Oh shit … shit … you can – Casey.”

“Perfect, isn’t it.” The only answer he got was another soft moan, Chuck moving closer, nearly crawling onto his lap. “Easy, kid. Can’t do this if you sit there.”

“Th-this?”

“Mm.” Casey unwrapped the end of the leash from his hand, feeling Chuck’s eyes watching every twist of the leather. When he had it loose, he leaned close and kissed the very end of his cock.

“Oh, thank you, God,” Chuck whispered.

God had very little to do with this, Casey wanted to point out, but instead he licked him, hearing the kid begin to pant. The taste of pre-come mingling with sweat hit his tongue, and fuck, like his dick wasn’t already throbbing? Then he had to go and taste like Polly-pure honey, and now it made that part of his anatomy really stand up and take notice.

“Let me show you ... a little trick, eh?” Casey took the last foot of the leash between his hands and began to tie the small loop off at the base of Chuck’s rigid cock.

“Oh God ... oh sh - what? Hey, that’s my ....”

“Thanks. But I guessed that.”

“Oh, no.”

“Paying attention?”

“Y-yes.”

Casey rolled his eyes and took up the next loop, winding it around the smooth flesh. That kid was not ready for a harness, though he knew how to do that, too. This was more in line of sheathing him pretty as a present, one that Casey would enjoy unwrapping in a minute or so. “Wanna keep that sweet bit hard, don’t we?”

“Preferably,” Chuck blurted, keeping his eyes down. “And, um, connected, if you don’t mind.”

“Heh.” He met Chuck’s gaze as he swathed the perfect arc, those eyes wide and staring at him in delicious shock. “Don’t worry, boyo. You really think I’d tear off something I plan on using?” A hell of a lot, too.

“It bears saying that your rope tricks can be … intimidating – Oh.”

“You seem to like it.” One hand went down and under, circling again. Casey kept the strip of leather, about a half inch wide, wound loosely around the kid’s length, not cutting in at all, but the friction enough to keep his cock in ramrod stiff mode.

Casey had this done to him before, so he knew it felt good. Of course, those were completely different circumstances when it happened to him. If he ever ran across that red-headed whore again, he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t shoot her for leaving him tied down like that at the Grand Marais. With a goddamn noose around his man-parts, no less.

Considering the Miller bitch - Irena or Carina - the symbolism wasn’t lost on him.

Hell, everyone thought with their dick sometimes. But what happened that night before she left him with his cock in the air ... holy God. There was a shiver as he recalled a feeling he hadn’t even experienced before until that night, the coarse drag of the strap running along the tight yet soft skin on his shaft. Being a little frayed and well-used, it was rougher than a man’s tongue, able to create friction along every inch of him.

Seemed only natural to want to show the kid what he was missing. Who wouldn’t offer a man a few minutes of bliss before tomorrow, when they had to flee again, and all the shit that would tear up between them?

Casey breathed out and looked up at Chuck, who was flushed-cheeked and blinking down at his own cock. Or, to be more precise, the leather strap looped around him three times, dark stripes against bright pink skin.

Chuck was paying close attention now. “I’m – I’m not certain the person who designed the halter intended this as an appropriate use,” he said, beginning to babble. And squirming. “Nor does it meet the level of suppleness I’ve grown quite accustomed to in that particular area.” More squirming.

“You keep doing that, cupcake,” Casey said, nodding at the kid’s feet as they shuffled, “and this won’t be nearly as fun.”

“Oh, God. When this is over … gah - we do need to talk about your idea of fun.” Chuck stretched his legs, his cock bobbing and jerking with every touch. “Because I have to say it makes me a little nervous when you practice lassoing something attached to me!”

“Haven’t shown you a thing yet,” Casey growled. His fingers circled him over the strap, toying with it, his thumb stroking the taut vein beneath as he slid down, bumping over each thin ridge of rope. Over every aching inch it crisscrossed. “Unless you count that, goddess?”

“Ah – oh. I do.” As Chuck gasped it, he caught his tongue between his teeth and jutted his hips along Casey’s hand, seeking skin to skin contact. “God, yes.”

“It can get better.” The second before Chuck could jerk his hips back - or do anything else that could possible give him a tug where he sure as hell didn’t want one - Casey pinched one end of the strap between his fingers and he tugged, slow, easy, letting the kid sink into the tightening and release as the leather leash unwound from his stiff cock.

“That’s – mmph.” Chuck groaned, hands curling around Casey’s biceps, entire body leaning towards his touch. “Oh … oh, crap.”

“Better than my tongue, kid?” Casey kept tugging, taking it as cool and gradual as he could, and bent to lick at the strips of skin he could reach. The path of rolling friction the rope gave made Chuck’s cock jump, convulse, but getting too excited could leave the skin a bit raw. Like he could hurt him. The hard prick on the kid was too pretty to harm, just like the rest of that lanky, solid body.

Chuck drew in a breath through his teeth, piercing straight to Casey’s cock. “Oh ... fuck, Casey ....”

“There?” Casey asked, watching the strap unravel as fast as Chuck. “Found out its not only a man’s lips that can make you feel good, kid?”

“I ... I never said that.”

“So you want me to put it away?” Casey eased the rope from his dick, bringing it to the end on the third and final coil. It loosened and fell away. If anything, the kid’s cock had swollen stiffer and larger, brighter red. Hum. There might’ve been the tiniest raised rash-y skin in three bands, the tip wet and leaking, wetting his fingers.

Well, that he could take care of for the kid, so Casey traced the crown with the tip of his tongue, then over the slit to press in, suck off the bead of moisture.

“That was ... oh, fuck,” Chuck murmured, failing to stifle a groan at the stimulating half restraint now that he was free. “What ... how did you know to do that?”

“Not a story for sweet boys who’ve barely been broken in.” Casey snorted as he put the strap between two fingers. “Try a little more.”

“I … I don’t quite …,” Chuck stammered, panting a little, his hands digging into the firm skin beneath Casey’s cotton shirt. “Okay. One ... more time.”

There was hope for the kid. His agreement came with an uncoordinated thrust, and that hungry little arch alone made Casey reach down to adjust his own cock, reminding himself he was an idiot for not letting the kid take the jeans from him in the first place. Wouldn’t take much more to get those sweet, bruised lips wrapped around his own cock ....

“Like it when you’re a little shameless, button.” Casey cupped his balls for him and the sacs in his hand grew taut.

“But ... not tight, okay?”

“Like I’d do what otherwise?” Casey smirked up at him, stroking upward, down, his touch still light as it can be. He felt Chuck vibrating, so he pulled back on the reins, not ready for the kid to come just yet. Too soon. “I take care of what belongs to me.”

“Oh …that’s private property, Mister.”

“Says the man wearing my leash.”

Chuck frowned. “You could learn some things about sharing.”

“Sharing this, aren’t I?” Casey’s lowered his head, lips sliding nearly to the base where the tight yet supple skin enticed him, excited him. Another, before he resurfaced again. “So ... you’re gonna let me?”

“Uhnmph. D-dang you.” Chuck closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip. “Please ... okay? You can do it again.”

“Knew you had a naughty streak under all that scrubbed-clean skin, kid,” Casey said, loving the blush it created. “Tempting as steak to a starving man, aren’t you?

After that, he opened his mouth and drew him in slow, taking as much as he could.

“Okay. Or ... or that. Mmph. Y-you can do that.”

Thanks for the permission, cupcake.

It was easy, licking a line down his long cock, and it reminded him of something, another note on the long list of items that made up the kid’s beautiful cluelessness. Chuck was well hung – God gave him that much at least, seemed only fair since he got a dickhead for a father – and had not a damn idea that he was.

“Tell me you wanna feel it,” Casey said when he settled back, stringing the strap between his fingers again.

“If I say something bad, like I hate you right now, you have to know it’s only because – oh. Oh, shit. Y-yes. I ... liked it.”

“Yeah, better.” Casey kissed the tip, earning a frustrated groan from the kid. From the cadence of his breathing, Casey knew he was ready, and he dragged the smooth leather excruciatingly slow over Chuck’s cock, round and round, trying to cover as much flesh as he could on the way. Too much, and it wouldn’t have the suppleness to give him the right amount of friction. Not enough, and why bother?

“Casey – that’s –”

“I’ve got you, kid. Got you....” Salty and sweet, and he licked a stripe across the visible flesh between bands before he pulled away.

“Oh … ‘s not you – C-Casey.”

Casey thought about it, deciding Chuck was ready to take the trick slightly further. “Here, kid. Little more for you.”

“Wha -?”

“Close your eyes. Just enjoy it, hm?” Casey soothed, rubbing one leg. Let me. That was what he wanted to say. When Chuck obeyed, he trailed the leash between his legs, once around his heavy sac, along his crease. As he gently tugged, he knew Chuck would feel it from the tip of his cock, along the channel of his ass to the small of his back.

“So unfair.” Chuck moaned softly, and his tongue peeked out of his mouth to wet his lips. The sweet backside pushed right back towards the rope. Hungry. “S’ good.”

“Yeah ... that’s it,” Casey said, that tongue giving him all kinds of ideas. His fingers tugged on the leash, kept slowly unraveling behind him, and up.

“I think ... that’s - ah – fuck....” Chuck broke it off there, just as Casey bent down to lick and suck at Chuck’s prick through the ropes, moving lower to suck at those bound balls.

When he leaned back, Casey drew in a breath, looking up at the slope of Chuck’s flat abdomen, the thighs that had lean bands of muscle tightening, the curve of his cock. The last loop from the tether fell from him, and suddenly there was a hand on the back of Casey’s neck. Tipping his head up, he could see the kid had his eyes closed, just rocking, barely moving on the balls of his feet.

“So you do have a thing for rope tricks after all, kid?” Casey asked.

“God …uhn.” He’d take that as a yes. “But ... please ....”

“Should I suck you?”

“Jesus ... John.” Chuck jutted his hips, and his shaft of hard flesh pushed out towards his cheek, his chin. “Do it.”

“Ornery little cuss sometimes, aren’t you?” Casey said, but he gave him a smile that said he’d let it slide time. That long cock in front of his face was too much temptation, and the only thing Casey could think of better than taking him between his lips was to have Chuck be the one to do it. Soon enough, he figured. “Good thing I already know how sweet you taste, pancake.”

“You can be wicked, you know?”

“I’ve been called worse,” Casey replied, fingers sliding up his crack until he heard a gasp. Yeah? Getting down to business, Casey’s tongue slid over his slit first, and he looked up to ensure the kid was watching.

Of course he was. Those warm brown eyes felt like sunshine on his shoulders, near fever. Perfect. He should be paying attention because Casey would show him what he liked, too.

Cupping his mouth around the kid’s cock from one side, molded around him, Casey slid all the way down when depth wouldn’t be an issue. It always amazed him how the skin there could be both taut yet incredibly soft, and he paused to press his tongue along as much hard flesh he could get.

“Casey ....” The kid moaned and pushed his hips forward, but Casey caught his thighs with both hands.

“Yeah? You want to come so fucking bad, is that it?”

“And ... p-part of me hates you ... don’t forget that.”

“I can tell.” Casey took his glistening cock in one hand, inhaling the scent of him, dipped his tongue over the slit. Yep. Still the truth. Hearing the kid suck in a breath was better than that brass band. “Then I guess I better do something about that, kid.”

Without wasting another beat, Casey opened his mouth and drew him between his lips, and this time it was for the prize. Might as well show him how good it felt to have him here alone, even if it was just for tonight.

Don’t think it.

Once he told himself, it was easy to focus. How could he not with a beautiful, lean body in front him, feeling the kid’s pulse pounding everywhere, even beneath the pads of his fingers. Casey’s tongue caressed the kid, increasing suction on the upward glide. Working him the way only a man knew how to do. None of that dainty-I-don’t want-to-get-my-mouth-dirty shit. Doing the job was doing it right. Taking his length until just before his throat began to tickle. Make him crazy.

Chuck stumbled, his name ringing out, as well as ‘please’ and a ‘love’ and ‘yours’. Yes, mine. He clenched onto his shoulders with bruising fingers. Did he even know how strong he could be when he set his mind to it? His hips were jerking, cock so stiff it barely moved, and Casey knew after all of the teasing and fondling, stops and starts, the kid was already ready to explode. Being propelled to the cusp brought on more urging and encouraging and babbling. Especially that last one.

“CaseyCaseyCasey ... see, was th-that so hard? Oh God Oh God.”

That was one thing he learned about the kid. His body told stories. His thighs betrayed how close he was with a quiver.

“That’s ... oooh. When I said you were good...? I – I meant it, Casey. Mmph. Okay, not just good. This is ... I – is this ... I should w-warn you – if you don’t – gah. Oh, John Casey you are an evil man for that. Okay, okay.”

Oh. His own cock jerked, but nothing like Chuck’s. His body was too hot, too tight -

Come for me now, kid.

And in that, as in other ways, Chuck did just as he wanted him to. Hell, his entire body seemed as tight as barbed wire strung between two posts. When his thighs flexed under Casey’s grip, when the kid groaned and told him he loved him and didn’t even know he said it, Casey braced himself. He prepared as Chuck came with sudden violence, clutching onto the back of his head, fucking his mouth. Casey’s hair was caught between his fingers, twisting, and that hurt a little. Hard to complain when his mouth tasted him and Chuck whispered his name like a prayer from his lips.

So careful with him. So perfect.

When it was over, Casey sagged back on the bed and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Entirely too satisfied with himself, he observed the damage he had wrought, the post-climatic aftermath with the kid’s chest heaving like bellows, a still moment of completeness.

“Should ... should I have given you a signal .... I can do an owl hoot or something.”

“You did give me a signal,” Casey said, bringing up a foot to rub the kid’s bare thigh.

“What was that?”

“The running commentary on my technique hammering on my eardrums.” He gave his young lover a lazy smile and brought up the other foot to trap him between his feet. “Not that I mind the encouragement.”

God, that look. Chuck couldn’t help giving him one of those shy smiles that made Casey want to pull him down on top of him. “Your, ah, method improved a bit there at the end. Just saying.”

“Yeah? Think I’m getting you all figured out, cupcake.” Like hell he was, but it was worth it to see Chuck put on a more obstinate look and stare down at him.

Casey tucked a hand under his head, reclining back on the mattress, his eyes slowly traveling over him. The still damp, amazingly semi-erect dick was something Chuck now wanted to hide with one hand, and Casey ended that little charade with a nudge of his ankle against the kid’s wrist. Having him naked and spent, connected from the tether in his hand to Chuck’s tender neck was too good to waste with some unneeded embarrassment.

“Have no idea how pretty you are, do you?” Casey murmured to himself, smiling as he dragged his heel over Chuck’s lower belly, back and forth. “Why’re you always hiding?”

“Why do you have all your clothes on?” Chuck asked right back at him, the appreciative look giving him a little burst of confidence, making him rise on his toes. “It seems you’re the one who’s hiding.”

He had a point, but Casey happened to like it that way, at least for a few minutes longer. Stretching his jean-clad calves low around Chuck’s hips, he hauled him in. A tug on the leash came with it, and the kid’s brows drew down at the feel of it digging into the back of his neck. “Good puppy,” Casey said, stroking Chuck’s slender ribcage, warm skin, now that he was trapped between his splayed thighs. “You’ll get your turn.”

“Asshole.” Chuck’s eyes were partly filled with aggravation, but more interestingly, there was the intent look he got when he set his eyes on something he wanted. Casey was pleased that this time the brown eyes were on him. “What if I say it is my turn?”

“You took a turn this morning didn’t you? And we all saw how that ended up.”

Chuck leaned over Casey’s lengthened, relaxed body. One hand landed next to Casey’s head, the other settling on his rumpled light blue shirt. “I think I remember where I left off, John.” The kid positioned his face over Casey’s, making him meet his gaze. “My hand was here ....” Holding onto the fabric, his fingers brushed down Casey’s stomach to the hem, then went down and under, seeking bare skin. When he found the heated flesh over his jeans, Chuck dragged his thumb back and forth over his belly, studying his face for a reaction. “I was trying to find out if you were ticklish, remember?”

“Not ticklish.” Not there, anyway. No way would he let him find the spot, either. That would just lead to pestering and annoyance. For the next fifty years. “Give me your hand.”

“Why? Is that it?” Chuck looked down and grinned. “Did you just –”

Casey swatted his hand out of the way and sat up, a moved that caused Chuck to have to straighten. “Out of there.”

The kid flashed a blazing smile. “You so are.”

“Heh. And maybe your ass needs a reminder who’s calling the shots tonight,” Casey said, running a hand over the rangy thigh. The other looped the tether around his fist, becoming tighter.

“No thank you,” Chuck answered, and he tugged on Casey’s shirt collar. “But you could let me help you with this. Hm?”

All that pale skin was too tempting. Casey bowed his head, gave into the urge to smooth the scruff of his unshaven cheek over his hip bone. Immediately, Chuck sucked in a breath at the feel of something that scratchy so close to something so sensitive. “Careful ... ah.”

“Afraid I’m going to rough up that soft skin here, kid?” Casey asked, scuffing his cheek on the inner part of his thigh. “Maybe we should find a way to wipe off some of that innocent sheen on you, boyo.” He slanted his head and chewed his bottom lip, weighing the odds of the kid going along with him. “Get you ... a little rougher around the edges?”

-x-

The husky growl shot straight to his lower belly. Again, like it always did.

With the day’s gunfight and differences seemingly left behind, the heat was now turned up. But … rougher?

He’s not talking about what I think he’s talking about.

Is he?

Wait a minute. What exactly do I think he’s talking about?

Okay, then. I haven’t the first clue.

Lowering his dark eyes, Chuck locked them with Casey’s and rubbed a thumb over that pesky stubble. He wasn’t an idiot. Casey’s ... dominant side – was that what he could call it? - was far more out in front, less restrained tonight than any other night. At least from the half dozen times he had experienced so far, anyway. Not exactly a worldly track record, but hey, he was still figuring out how their bodies, all that hard muscle pressed up to his weird angles, seemed to fit together.

“If you mean ... well, that,” Chuck said, nodding down towards the length of leather that still connected his neck to Casey’s hand, “I’m not going to let you.”

“Let me?” Casey chuckled.

“No. Not - there, I mean.”

“Not talking about that tender ass of yours, pancake.” Casey sat up, making Chuck stand in front of him, and oh, there was his breath warm on Chuck’s skin again. There. Casey then brought a big hand around and brushed it over one buttock, up and down, until the kid hitched a breath. “I mean … open your eyes a little.”

Chuck shook his head. He was beginning to learn Casey had a heavy appetite, but the rest? He couldn’t even guess. “Then, okay, I’ll admit it. I’m lost. What are you talking about?”

Casey grinned up at him, making Chuck’s insides swirl, and bent forward to drop a kiss on his flat abdomen. “Cupcake, if you knew what I was talking about, I’d have to turn over my hat to you, since that would mean you conned a thief.”

“Not everyone can be worldly, you know,” Chuck said, folding his arms over his chest. “This is who I am. And I should remind you – I have very little – as in none whatsoever – experience as a … well, boyfriend. So if there is something I should know … or do differently …?” Oh, geez. He didn’t even know how to end that thought.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, princess.” Casey swept his upward glance over him, from the kid’s long legs at eye level up to his face. His thoughts made him smirk, Chuck noticed nervously, right before he crouched in to bite him playfully on the hipbone.

“Hey. Watch it.”

Casey traced the skin he had bitten and rose to his feet. “But you have proven that you’re trainable.”

Chuck wrinkled his brows and looked down. Like he needed another reminder of his utter nakedness? It was further accentuated now that his lover’s completely clothed body was aligned to his. “Is that going to leave a mark?”

“Not unless you want me to, kid,” Casey said, reaching around him to scrub his knuckles lightly over an ass cheek. “Nothing here but baby-soft skin.” His eyes were a scant few inches away, only allowing Chuck to gaze into blue and nothing else. “Besides … I figured you got enough of those tonight.”

“Kind of you,” Chuck mumbled. “Now, should you be, ah ... you know.”

“What?”

“Okay, I’m pretty certain the way this works is that you need to take your clothes off.”

“I was right about being trainable,” Casey said, crossing to the head of the bed.

“Hah. In fact, if you hold still – what the heck are you doing now?” Confused, Chuck stared first at his lover and then at Casey’s hands, which were working on a knot. The end of the leash – God, you have to stop doing that! – was attached to the bedpost before he could blink or catch a breath. “Can I ask you something without you getting perturbed?”

Casey glanced over and shrugged. Conspicuously, he did not stop a final cinching of the knot. “No promises.”

“Well, I’ll take a chance,” Chuck said, wide-eyed as he watched, not even bothering to stop him because what was the good of that? “Are you ... still angry at me?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, then. Have you ever been told you have a strange sense of humor?”

That gave Casey pause. “Never knew I had one until I met you, Bartowski.” Finishing up with the knot, like this was normal, Casey stepped towards him until his body heat enveloped the kid, hips pinning him back to the mattress. As he laid two huge hands on Chuck’s middle, Casey kissed the baffled look from his face. Vigorously, almost roughly, using a great deal more tongue than the kisses in the barn.

Oh, that’s … not his hand. With his tongue pushing into Chuck’s mouth, he gave Chuck a feel of his need rising high and hard, the bulge pressed to him. The kid sunk into the kiss, breathing in air that tasted like Casey, heady musk, and brought a hand down, pressing it over Casey’s shaft where it strained. Needing to feel him, curious.

Casey broke off the kiss and brushed Chuck’s lips with his own, smiling. “In a minute, I’ll let you undo the buttons, boyo.”

“In a minute?” Chuck frowned. “Why did you tie that down to the post, anyway? This isn’t one of your ... I don’t know, um, tricks, is it?

Leaning in to brush his lips over his again, just a passing caress, Casey said, “Stay.”

Chuck’s eyes followed the leather lead rope and then he turned back to his boyfriend. Remain calm, he told himself. The man is a born tease. “Okay, I was wrong about the strange sense of humor.”

“You were?”

“Yes,” Chuck replied, lifting his chin stubbornly. “What I really wanted to ask was – are you out of your mind?”

Casey, unfazed, arched a brow at him. “Problem?”

A surprised expression fluttered over Chuck’s face. “Problem? I’m not a puppy doing tricks for you, you know.”

“Really?” Casey ruffled the kid’s hair, rested his hand on his nape as he straightened. “Because so far you’ve showed me sit, stay, and come.”

“You arrogant jerk.”

Casey rolled his eyes and hauled him forward by tucking a finger under the collar and pulling. When the kid felt his arm wrap around his middle, bringing his body to Casey’s, he briefly considered wrestling himself away, but the touch was wholly the opposite of his words. His boyfriend’s thumb swept in a circle on his bare lower back, his other fingers resting on the fine curve of Chuck’s buttock. “If it weren’t so easy to rile you up ....”

“So it’s my fault.”

Casey’s attention flicked briefly down, lingered on Chuck’s mouth, the pale column of his throat, sweep of shoulders. Laying his hand on the kid’s now damp strands of hair stuck to his temple, he shook his head at himself. “Only if you count what you’ve done to me,” he said quietly, tacking on a half-derisive snort. He was serious. “The rest of it. You can pretty much say that’s on me, kid.”

Chuck didn’t know what to say to that. It seemed Casey had momentarily gone to a deeper, darker place, one he refused to talk about. The same one Chuck would give his own hand-drawn copies of da Vinci’s drawings to dig into.

“You gonna stay for a few minutes?” Casey asked.

“I still say you can be an ass.”

Casey cupped his jaw, fingers over his ear, and murmured against his lips, “Your ass, sweetmeat.”

“Don’t remind me,” Chuck muttered. It still stung a little. He should say no, don’t leave me here, but … there was something in Casey’s touch, the protective authority in his deep rumble. “You did this ... the first time, too. Do you always leave your lovers to go on treasure hunts?”

“Yeah, I do.” Casey winked and brushed his shoulder more casually with his knuckles, warm bumps along his bicep. “But you should be happy, pancake. I only come back to the ones I’ve taken a shine to.”

“I’m flattered. Really,” Chuck grumbled, plopping down on the bed.

“Be good,” Casey said.

As he took the stairs and disappeared from his view, Chuck’s mouth gradually fell open. He left him here. This wasn’t a joke.

Or was it? Casey seemed like the type that would live eye for eye and all that.

“Don’t worry about me,” Chuck called out, darting a look to the side at the bed post. “I’ll just be waiting here.” Seriously?

Though the dim light from the kerosene lamp barely illuminated to the bed, he turned to study the knot. It was nothing like the one Casey had used on him the time he left the kid with his foot tied to the table after Chuck had tried to run. That was an impossibly woven tangle of cords and the only way to get out of it, Chuck figured, was to gnaw his own leg off. No thanks.

This one, though? The ends of the tether were tied in a double slip knot. Doable, even for someone who could be slightly uncoordinated. Was it a test? Was Casey waiting to see if he would untie it and free himself?

Well, should he?

A good half minute passed while Chuck looked at it. Then he reclined back on his elbows and let out a breath. Knowing he could unravel it if he wanted to gave him a sense of liberation, but it was an entirely different pull that kept him where he was.

Intertwined as a knot.

In reality, it was only a mere two months ago. Getting entangled by a stranger in an entirely different way. Without knowing the story of who he really was, where he came from, just a sense that he had tumbled from somewhere lofty. A fallen angel from Heaven or Hell with no past to tell of until now. It was all just swept away, except the thing that made him mortal. Chuck was only beginning to understand it. Maybe being naked revealed some of that unshielded need and surrender to another man. Even one like Chuck. Burning down his barriers left nothing but raw flesh, exposing actual feelings for another human who could see past the scars.

But Casey was here. Staying with him, close, keeping him safe. All the places in the universe, vast, infinite and they found each other somehow.

Why was he thinking this now?

Where the hell did he go, anyway?

“Um, John?”

As soon as the hushed question was out, Chuck heard the familiar sound of his footsteps on the stairs. An odd comfort filled him in that he was finally recognizing the other man’s movements, his quiet ways.

“Missed me, I suppose,” Casey said. Stopping at the top, he gave Chuck a curious look and briefly bit down on his bottom lip, not even close to hiding a small smirk. “’Cause I missed what I see, long legs.”

Chuck turned to look off to the side, feeling an embarrassing flush at the gaze sliding over his body. Not that he didn’t enjoy being the bull’s eye in his appreciative eyes; it was just that he still couldn’t understand what would make a man like Casey look twice at someone as awkward as him.

“Wow. You did come back. You must have a thing for men who can fix tiny mechanical devices.”

“You stayed. You must have a thing for being tied up.”

“I could’ve untied it,” Chuck pointed out, bringing his knees up to his chest and lacing his fingers around them.

“Yeah, I know.” Casey strolled over and leaned forward, stroking his calf. “Why didn’t you?”

Chuck gave a glimpse to the bedpost and felt his neck and chest getting warmer still. Even if he knew the answer, he’d never be able to confront it. “Um, where – where did you go?”

Casey smiled at the avoidance, watching his face closely. He then surprised the kid by burying his lips in Chuck’s unruly curls, kissing him there, and breathing in before standing tall. “Had to get my pack.”

“Oh. My least favorite five words.”

“Is that so.” Casey slanted an amused glance at him as he opened it up and began digging around. “Hate that I’m asking this, but why is that?”

“Because I swear it has magical powers of sorts,” Chuck said, but he had to smile. “The only issue I have with it is that every time you pull something out of there ... I find myself in a, well, let’s just say a compromising position.”

“If I recall, muffin, you don’t mind some of the things I keep in here.”

“As long as its – hey.” Chuck sat up and twisted forward, squinting down at the bag. “What’s that you’ve got in your – is that ..?”

Casey’s eye narrowed. “Got a problem with it?”

“A blindfold? You … must like that.”

“I do,” he said, not even embarrassed or blushing or anything. “You gonna hold still?”

Chuck gaped at his crazy-ass boyfriend more than the cloth he now had in his hand. “Are you serious?” he asked, sliding back a little on the mattress. “But points for you to phrasing that as a question, John. I don’t remember you being quite that flexible the first time.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Um ….” What? As luck would have it, Chuck’s focus turned to the bedpost, to the leather rope he felt every time he swallowed. His muscles tightened, a little tremor that he hoped wasn’t visible. He had already agreed to go further than he had before.

“That’s a no.”

“Eh?”

“I – I want to watch this time.”

Huh.

Why not say it? Casey had no issues saying what gave him a thrill.

“You do?” When Chuck finally could work up eye contact, he looked over to see Casey contemplating him with pursed lips. “Fair enough.” He started to put it away.

“But ... ah, you can give it to me.”

Wait. Who the hell said that?

“You wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with that.” Or me, he clearly meant to add.

“Well.” Hesitating, Chuck wiped his sweaty hand on the blanket and then held it out. “Here. I’ll ... hold onto it for you.”

Casey chuckled and shook his head in disbelief, until he realized that looked like ‘no’. “All right, cupcake,” he said in a mild voice, but the kid picked up on keen interest underneath as he handed it over. “You can hang onto it for me – but don’t lose it.”

“You really do hate sharing, don’t you?” Chuck asked, studying it thoughtfully with a grin.

“I never share what belongs to me.” Casey’s hand slid to his nape, that possessive kneading touch, eyeing him while his fingers flipped a few curls along Chuck’s neck. “You’d do yourself a favor to remember that, brown eyes.”

Each touch – each hum and growl in his voice – vibrated through him, made his toes curl and his cock get harder. He never felt like he belonged anywhere or with anyone. It was both scary and reassuring, recognizing that what he most wanted was to belong to him in every way. Something he’d never had. And a man who belonged to him, both flesh and soul, in exactly the same way.

Something told him the stubborn soft-hearted bastard would have a hard time confessing it.

Sliding the piece of cloth under the pillow, Chuck looked back in time to see Casey wrap his fist around something before stuffing it back inside his pack. “What’s that?” the kid asked, only catching the briefest glimpse. Small, oblong. Confusing.

“Nothing,” Casey replied without looking up.

“No, it was definitely something. I saw it.”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, sunshine,” he said, ignoring Chuck’s quizzical expression.

“Should I be ... worried?”

Now that was odd. He suddenly seemed to have difficulty meeting Chuck’s eyes. “It’s staying in the pack.”

“But what was it?”

“You’re going to keep asking, aren’t you?”

“Well, obviously, after our little talk about being honest with each other, I only thought I would test the waters.” Chuck unfolded one leg and rested his elbow on the other, looking for any cue, though it would be easier reading rock formations. “I guess it does only go one way with you. Is that it, John?”

“Should’ve brought a gag, not a blindfold,” he muttered. An emotion close to guilt flickered over his face, making Chuck withhold a smile. “Let’s put it this way, pancake: If you don’t want a blindfold, there’s no way in hell you’re ready for that.”

“Ready for what?”

“Shut it, Bartowski.”

“Not ... not that gag you keep talking about ... I hope?”

“It is tempting.”

“Hey, I can be quiet if the mood strikes me.” The kid lowered his voice. “Very quiet. See? I’m being quiet now.”

Casey grunted, less than impressed. “Don’t worry your little head, muffin. No matter how badly I may want to try it, it doesn’t get stuffed between your teeth.”

“Aren’t we feeling magnanimous this evening?” Chuck cocked his head when something occurred to him. “Where then?”

Casey sighed and folded his arms over his chest, making Chuck notice for the hundredth time that those were a damn scary pair of forearms. “Fine,” he said under his breath. “Back door.”

“What?” Chuck sat up abruptly and swung his head around to check the staircase. “You heard someone? Was there a noise? Footsteps – you don’t think they came back already? Casey, what - hey. Are you –” He stilled long enough to notice Casey wasn’t reaching for his gun. “Is something … wrong?”

“No, that’s not precisely what I meant.” Casey was both laughing to himself and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not that back door, princess.”

“But the other door is theoretically the fron – oh. Oh.” Chuck went bug-eyed and immediately his gaze cut down to the vicinity of – mistake – and then up to the ceiling. It still didn’t help, so he concluded it was just best to bury his face in his hands. “Oh my God. That... one? Since when is that okay?”

“Problem?”

“Oh my God,” Chuck repeated, since the lunatic didn’t seem to get it, and he clamped his fingers tighter over his eyes. “You know, you have a strange way of saying, hey, sweetie, I have a sense of adventure. Let’s go on a boat … or a hike – or God, anything else.”

“Can you do this quiet-like?”

“No!”

The eye roll was a given without having to look. “Ever tried it?”

“No, of course not.” Half afraid, Chuck moved his hand to his forehead so that he could share his gob-smocked expression. “And why are you even asking me that? You already know ... my history.”

“Lackluster as it was. Sure. So why are condemning something you never tried?”

Wow. Point for the big guy.

Chuck forced the shocked look from his face and brought his hands down. It didn’t help that his stomach was now fluttering in a peculiar way while his brain went side-ways picturing it. “I think the double surprise I’ve had so far tonight should just about cover it for now, don’t you think?”

Casey’s eyes traveled over him. “For now?”

“Out of all of I just said, that’s what you picked up?”

Casey put his knee on the bed, by the outside of Chuck’s hip, and leaned over him. “You’re the one who wanted to know.”

“When I brought you here to find out more about you, I never would’ve guessed something like that.”

“You brought me, eh?” Casey asked, running his hand over to Chuck’s hip bone, slowly tracing a line up to his stomach, leaving burning heat. “That’s how you see it?”

“Of course.” Chuck cleared his throat and got bolder, his hand reaching out until he found warm body, landing on his hard chest. “It was all part of my plot to get you naked, but … you may have noticed that so far it hasn’t worked so well.”

“You learned sometimes you shouldn’t fight me.” Casey tilted Chuck’s face up to give him a kiss, his chin scratchy, but his mouth warm as could be, wet. “Mmm.” The low, rough sound Casey fed him was like an ember that burst into flame. Chuck’s shivering against the night air gradually calmed, becoming a tremble of a whole other kind.

Casey’s hands wrapped around his hips, keeping him close and warming him until he felt the need beginning to swell again. When the kid pulled back enough to take a breath, he saw he was being studied by an unreadable squint, the glow from the lamp on the dresser throwing shadows to create a sculpture of Casey’s face, the slope of his cheek, sharp line of his jaw. Chuck knew he could get caught in those eyes, the focus, the impossible sky-blue, like a rabbit in a trap.

“Am I ever going to know what you’re thinking?” the kid asked.

“You should give up on that, princess,” Casey said, leaning in to finish the kiss, those lips skimming up and down his neck, then back to his mouth, his tongue slipping right in to taste him. He ended it just as quickly, pulling back to touch his neck, scrape a thumb over the leather. “But right now, I’m thinking I’m going to let you finish what you started this morning … if that’s okay with you.”

-x- End Chapter Twenty-Two Sins Fell Angels-x-


	23. Chapter Twenty-three

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Three

-x-

“Should I be worried?” Because usually, with Casey’s body taking up so much personal space and his dick as hard as a rock, he should at least be on high alert.

“I don’t know, Bartowski. Why don’t you tell me why you would be?”

“Well,” Chuck began, ignoring the warm hand on his thigh, “you’re usually not ... compliant.”

“Compliant?”

“It means willing to go along with things.”

Casey gave him a toned-down ‘dumbass’ look.

“Oh, right,” the kid said. “You probably knew that. You were asking about the implication of compliant since I had just said I had other plans and you said I could show –”

“Gonna take my shirt, or just try to talk it off me?”

“Is that a nice way of saying shut up and do it?”

Casey cocked a brow. “Every sentence out of your mouth gonna make me wish I’d just tie you down and take care of business?”

Chuck’s eyes landed on Casey’s grin. He was joking, but the idea was enough for the kid to run his sweaty palms down over the blanket. “You’re going to have to stand up.”

First, though, Casey rumpled the top of Chuck’s head, making his curls do even weirder things, the kid was sure. It was strange that he kept the end of the tether tied around the bedpost, not yet giving a sign he would let go. When he got to his feet, his eyes fastened on Chuck’s face. “Are you cold?”

“Cold?” Chuck shifted on the mattress uneasily, knowing standing next to someone like Casey would only accentuate his own nakedness. There was no hiding his stiff cock, either, already coming back to life, hard and red-tipped. But he had to stand up if he wanted any chance of exposing the wide plane of pale skin in front of him, and he wanted that. Badly. “I – I’m fine. Warm, actually.”

“Not enough,” Casey went, and he pulled Chuck to his feet. “Come here.”

His boyfriend tilted his face up to give him a kiss, his shirt wet and chilly against the kid’s bare skin, but his mouth warm and moist. The low rough sound in his chest that Casey fed him was like walking into a flame. The kid felt his big hands wrap around his hips, keeping him close and heating him bone deep. It was a minute before Casey ended the kiss, pulling back just enough to bring his lips to the kid’s temple, brushing against his dark curls.

“I was only asking,” Casey said, “because I feel you trembling, and I like to think it has nothing to do with being cold.”

“You seem rather sure of yourself,” Chuck said, reaching up to put his fingers on the shirt’s buttons. Okay, so what if it was true? He didn’t need to know that the heat of Casey’s body felt reassuring against his bare chest, but the rest of him was one giant tremble. “Are you going to hold still and let me do this?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?”

“Are you going to, um, untie this first?” Chuck darted his eyes along the rope.

Kissing his jaw, Casey pulled him even closer, tighter, and then Chuck felt a smile against his cheek. “Not a chance, princess. You’re still all mine. You’ll do best by not forgetting that.” His mouth moved down to Chuck’s throat, leaving little biting kisses. “Now take the shirt.”

Put that way, how could he not? Chuck sucked in a breath when Casey’s teeth found his earlobe, and he reminded his fingers to make quick work of the buttons. “Oh ... the shirt’s still wet. Maybe it was you who was cold.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“Hum. I always wondered if you were half human furnace,” Chuck said. Taking hold of each placket, he rolled the shirt down Casey’s shoulders and automatically leaned in to breathe the scent of his skin. The kid could identify him even with his eyes closed, ever since their first night together. Mixing with the scent of leather was the sharper tang of gunpowder from this morning, and he didn’t even want to think about that. It was enough to leave him reeling already.

“Gonna just sniff me?”

Chuck’s head sprung back, eyes blinking. “I should warn you,” he said. “I can bite too, so I would wipe that smile from your face.”

Casey snorted at the impertinence and backed up half a step to give Chuck room. “Just don’t leave any teeth marks.”

“No promises.” Smiling, the kid tossed the shirt on the floor, not about to be picky where it landed. The moment the garment was out of the way, Chuck placed his palms on Casey’s hard chest. Springy chest hair tickled his hands. “Wow. But the rest of you is warm. Hm.” He tried to lightly clench, unclench, but his fingertips could only sink in a fraction before firm muscle impeded him. “Does that hurt when I do this?”

“Do what?”

“Must you be a hard ass all the time?”

“Wanna take off the pants and find out?” Casey asked.

“Understated. I like that about you.” Chuck fought back the urge to stick his tongue out and brushed his hands lower, past his pecs to his stomach. “I like this, too. I think I can grow accustomed to having my very own cowboy.”

“Not your giant plaything, kid,” Casey told him, lowering his head to bring his lips under his ear, “unless you look under the jeans.”

“Your subtly is duly noted - oh.” Chuck dipped his head to the side, letting Casey’s tongue torment the curve of his neck. “You can be very convincing when you do that.”

“Then do it.”

“Right. If you say so.” A knot of excitement twisted Chuck’s lower belly at the thought. It was a pity he had to inch away and let go of all of that heat and smooth, taut flesh, but darn it, his fingers just couldn’t work when Casey had his tongue tracing the inside of his ear.

“Am I distracting you, boyo?”

“You. Just hold still.”

Casey smiled and jutted his hips out a little, content to watch the kid’s hands on his jeans. Of course, this meant they almost slipped when Chuck felt the substantial bulge waiting for him under the denim.

“Looks like I was correct about one thing,” he said, unconsciously sliding his fingers down to cup his partner. “You do like turkey sandwiches.”

Casey briefly closed his eyes at the pressure and then pushed himself against Chuck’s palm, giving him a good feel for the reason he should speed up. “I can show you something else I like if you keep going.”

Chuck rolled his eyes at that smile. “This does mean you need to back up a step so that I can get them down.”

When Casey obliged, it brought Chuck to the end of his rope. Quite literally, the kid realized as he swallowed hard and felt the leather dig in along his neck. In order to follow him, and heck yes, he was going to follow him, any remaining slack fell away.

He could not begin to understand the broadening grin on Casey’s face. “Too far, puppy?”

Chuck rose on his toes. “Okay, here’s the thing. For one, you do need to hold still if this is going to work,” he said, using his reach to finish of the buttons, “and two, are you sure you want to be this cocky, considering the somewhat precarious proximity of your loaded weapon to my hands?”

“Heh.” Casey sounded entirely too satisfied with himself, but he did stroll in a step after making the kid stretch a bit to get the pants. “Think I left the safety disengaged , so be careful down there. Wouldn’t want it to go off in your hands, muffin. That’d just be a waste of good gunpowder, eh?”

“You are a shameless bastard,” Chuck said, a pink glow starting at his neck, his muscles going tight. He tried to hide his self-consciousness with a cough. When he glanced up, Casey was giving him a smug look, so a lot of good that did.

“No argument from me,” Casey agreed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Behave,” Chuck scolded, ducking down to concentrate on getting the pants off of him. “You seem to forget my hands are my best asset. I’m pretty adept at – ah. Oh. Hey ... hey ....” God almighty.

Casey chuckled at this, having no idea how intimidating he could look, even with his pants slung somewhere in the vicinity of his lower thighs. “Collar isn’t too tight, is it, kid? Because you’re turning red.” He squinted at him. “If I didn’t know better, and I do, I’d say you’re acting like you haven’t seen it before, pancake.”

“That’s ... just. You? Stop smiling.” Chuck looked off towards the dresser, then the window, rubbing the back of his neck. “Last night, by the creek, it was a little dark, and now ... um, it’s ... just ... kind of out there saying –and you know what?” The kid cleared his throat. Jesus, but it did confirm that in God’s Master Plan, he also had a sense of doling out things proportionately. As in that is so not fair. “Um. I’m going to stop talking now.”

“Gonna leave the job half done, kid?” Casey peered down and put his hands on his hips. The posture clearly said that if the kid wanted the pants off all the way, he’d better get moving.

“You’re sneaky,” Chuck said. “I mean, sneakier than I knew,”

“How so?”

“You keep backing up.” Testing him. Seeing how far he’ll go on the not-a-leash.

“And you’re cute when you’re blushing, kid.”

“Not blushing,” Chuck mumbled, and he wrapped a hand around the other man’s sturdy waist, using the grip to make Casey step forward. Well, he liked to think it made him do it, though they both knew Casey indulged him by shuffling in closer.

“There. Better?”

Chuck’s body instinctively straightened as Casey moved closer. Now Casey’s eyes were inches away from Chuck’s, giving him a view like the sky at the cusp of nightfall.

“Um, hello.” Ah, crap. Diction under pressure was never his forte.

Casey smirked. “Does the boy have other any ideas?” Showing that he had some of his own, Casey placed his hands on Chuck’s hips, that heavy prick brushing his own when he moved. It made him think of every illicit thing they’d done over the course of the past few hours. While the kid looked up at him, he felt Casey move again, and as the bristly pubic hairs scraped over his own erect cock, it was a kind of welcoming torture, making him forget to correct ‘the boy’ comment. “You able to reach whatever you need, or should I show you what else a rope can be used for?”

“I’ve seen enough tricks for tonight, thanks,” Chuck said, and his lips parted to let out a slow breath. “Now if you hold ... still, I can just.”

Casey did as the kid asked, leaving his hands on his hips and letting Chuck slide the pants down. To his knees, anyway.

“Whoa -” That was as far as he could go before the leash cut into his neck in a way that went past discomfort. Chuck stood to give Casey a dirty look that he hoped conveyed how he felt about the short rope. “I seem to have a problem here. Casey.”

“Yeah, you do. Need a little slack, button?” Running a hand down the kid’s belly, Casey then reached around Chuck to get to the bedpost and methodically untied the knot. Yet when it came time to handing over the tether, he simply kept it in his big paw and stood in front of the kid again. “There, now.”

“You’re joshing me,” Chuck said.

“How?”

“Aren’t you supposed to give me that?”

“Not yet,” Casey said, then leaned in to kiss the frown away. “Get on your knees, kid.”

“Always straight to the point, aren’t you?”

“When I see what I want, there’s no sense in fidgeting about it.”

He could learn that from Casey.

“All right.” Chuck pulled back, already missing the furnace and instead let the little luxury of touch soothe him. Casey’s skin felt damn good. Not as good as he looked standing there. The lamplight flickered over the profile of his body, golden, like a dream where something could be lost if even a twig snapped them out of it. Everything out there beyond the window was scary and imperfect. Everything in this warm room with him tonight was closed off and safe.

“Still trembling,” Casey said.

“You’re imaging it,” Chuck replied, kissing his throat, then lowered his head to trail his lips over a rounded pec. “I’ll start here.” His hands closed on Casey’s arms, holding him, but it wasn’t as if he was going somewhere. The moment Chuck kissed him, he had felt his lover still beneath his touch, maybe taken aback by the idea Chuck didn’t fall straight on his knees for him. Bowing his head further, the kid drew his lips down Casey’s stomach, getting the hitch of breath he was after. “Still say you’re ticklish there, John.”

Casey didn’t answer. When Chuck gave a quick look up, he saw the larger man had shut his eyes. His cock thrust forward, not a subtle hint that he needed more than soft kisses along his abdomen, his hipbone.

Chuck breathed in, then knelt between his legs, settling his hands on Casey’s thighs. Eye level with his stiff cock make Chuck’s own dick stand up and notice, almost as hard.

You’re to blame for this, John Casey. You shouldn’t feel so good, but you do.

“Puppy,” Casey said, “those are some of the best words a man can hear ....”

Chuck’s mouth opened and closed. He didn’t dare look up. What in the world made him say that out loud? No fixing the truth, he decided. Refocusing, his cheek slid along Casey’s shaft, the hint of stubble rasping against him. “God, you are so ....” Addicting. In his bloodstream.

“Yeah, that’s it, kid.” Casey’s fingers massaged Chuck’s scalp, making his neck muscles relax. “Wanna get a feel for me again? Start wherever you want.”

“You’re also a wicked man,” Chuck said, getting a feel by laying his teeth into the meat of one thigh. “Especially here.”

“Shit.”

“Sorry. Did that hurt?”

“No, but it will in a second.”

Guess that was a hint Casey had had enough teasing. Chuck closed his eyes and breathed him in, all of that wild, strong scent filling his nose. That was too much temptation, and the kid leaned in and licked the smooth tip of his cock, so careful, so gentle.

“Mm ... better. Get rid of the pants first,” Casey advised with a strong hand on his head. They were still bunched up around his lean calves. “All the way down.”

“Finally. We’re in total agreement for once.” Chuck shifted on his knees, accidently knocking his chin against Casey’s prick, causing an intake of breath. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to – well -”

“You wanna apologize, kid, you’re going about it all sideways.”

“Pants, buster,” Chuck said, tapping his foot. “Lift your foot.”

“Pretty sassy for a boy on a leash,” Casey said in a low voice, smirking down at him. But it seemed to mesmerize him to see the kid on his knees, and the larger man did as he was told. “I might start thinking you’re getting the hang of this.”

“Quick study, remember?” Not precisely the way his professors meant, but to hear Casey chuckle was worth it. Chuck hooked his hands on the pants and tugged them over each foot. And if it wasn’t obvious before – and my God, it was – now there was nothing between them but a hard cock bobbing in front of his eyes. Chuck blinked for a second.

“Need any help? ‘Cause I could make some suggestions.”

“I think I can handle it from here,” Chuck answered, and finally wrapped his fingers around the target; long, girthy flesh and aching need.

“Yeah ... good.” It was amazing how that one simple move made Casey’s breathing pick up. “Now, you’re getting it.”

“Not yet.” Chuck licked his bottom lip, wetting it, and then slowly brushed his mouth around the rim of his shaft. No tongue yet. Just touching. Taut yet pliable skin, exactly like he remembered ....

“Jesus, kid,” Casey said, just soft words over his head. “Wanna finish what you started, don’t you?”

God, he did. Chuck’s own involuntary, guilty reaction to him was just as evident. Right or wrong, being on his knees, a leather bond tying them together, was as if Casey had, in fact, slapped cuffs on him this morning instead of the other way around. He wouldn’t move if he could.

And damned if he was going to let Casey suffer with blue balls a second longer. The kid relaxed his knees, leaned against Casey’s legs to get closer, and breathed over him. He immediately felt Casey’s dick swell and jerk towards his mouth. There were moves Casey had taught him that night in the tub, the way Casey liked it done to him. Techniques beyond the mechanics of ‘get it wet’ and ‘suck’ which Chuck found out – to his red-faced chagrin – had come to him quite innately, thank you.

Okay, here was one. Casey seemed to like it when his fingers made up the distance, but hell, this was only the second time. Did that make him a freaking expert? Well, sort of?

“Need me to draw it out for you in one of your die-a-gram books, genius?” Casey drawled in perfect smartass - and taking the base of his thick cock, he swiped it over Chuck’s chin teasingly. “Or do you think you can put it where it goes?”

Chuck shut him up – sweet revenge that was – by stroking a hand down his length, slow, his fingers memorizing the different sensations from top to the looser underside, like a man learning his way. Not to be rushed.

“This okay?” Chuck asked, lips still touching him, “Or this?” In a way that he knew would drive him a little batty, the kid then drew his tongue over the wet tip of his cock, his fingers cradling his balls. “Mmm.”

“Fuck ... buachaill maith.”

By now, Chuck was beginning to recognize certain Gaelic phrases, especially since Casey threw them around a bit more in these particular circumstances. Not that Chuck knew what more than a handful meant. Huh. He imagined a day would come when a person could have the entire world’s knowledge at their fingertips, ways to translate anything to sensible words –

“Wherever your brain just went, kid,” Casey said. “Need ... you here ....”

“Thorry.”

“Not enou – ah.” His words trailed right off when Chuck put those thoughts aside and sucked experimentally at the head of his prick. “Yeah, that’s good ... like your sweet little mouth .... Jesus.”

Encouragement earned him another suck, sliding further over tight skin, and another until Chuck saw Casey’s toes look like they were going to break right off, they were curled so tight.

“Keep going,” Casey whispered, putting a little more strength behind a thrust. “Making me want you so much ... when you suck like that.”

The kid couldn’t help it, this was about simple instincts ... and he remembered from the first time that it was really hard to screw up. There was basically a limited amount of ways to go about sucking cock. Movement, tasting, pressure, covering as much as he could. At least keeping him slick wasn’t an issue. Saliva had begun to pool in his mouth the moment the kid’s lips touched Casey’s long cock.

“Take a little more, brown eyes ....” Casey suggested. “You want to, don’t you?”

God yes, he wanted to say. But, hey, he had a feeling Casey would like it if he showed him instead. Chuck complied by opening his mouth further, gliding down a little more. He remembered to use his tongue on the way, molding it to the hard, curved surface, swirling it around a couple of times and tasting pre-come. Not unpleasant at all, so he repeated a slow loop around the broad rim, circling, getting it wetter. And heard a low growl of approval for his efforts.

That deep vibration in Casey’s chest went straight to his own cock. Okay. Best to file that away in his brain to do that again.

Chuck pulled back up, not completely letting him leave his mouth, and his fingers drifted down before his mouth did, making Casey arch up, push deeper. Whoa – almost too much. The kid gasped around him, but stopped a millisecond before he would’ve pulled away, or worse yet, fell into a humiliating coughing fit. Maybe he was getting the hang of it. Which was a good thing, since he had a hunch Casey would want it a hell of a lot in the time to come.

“Don’t stop now, kid,” Casey said, and Chuck felt his fingers closing around his curls. Not enough to hurt, but almost. “Yeah, you got it ....”

Hearing reinforcement, Chuck’s mouth watered, and he got braver. He slid down to where he had to part his lips more to surround him with heat. It dumbfounded him how a man completely rough and hard as nails could be so smooth and velvety in hidden places. Well. Except there. Under the head, where Chuck moved his tongue on the glide up, curling it under the edge to worry the tiny ridges there. He already knew teasing the little indentation was enough to put smoke between a man’s ears, so why not?

Testing his theory, Chuck gave the sensitive spot some attention. As he did this, neatly pressing his tongue in, the kid dragged his fingertips past Casey’s balls, nails scraping along lightly –

“Oh you little son of a bitch ....” Casey rumbled, hands sliding over the back of Chuck’s head. “Smart boy ... you’ve been paying such close attention for me, eh? Didn’t know you’d like to suck cock so much, did you?”

The kid was pretty sure ‘son of a bitch’ was a term of endearment, all things considered. He brushed it off by letting his lips drag a little extra along the taut surface, up and back down. It was a little harder going deep – well, there was much more girth to cover – but Chuck thought he was doing his best by taking his time. Getting into a rhythm, gauging what he could do and where he had to face his physical limitations.

Casey wasn’t as enthralled with the slow approach. Just like usual.

It was a few forceful fingers hooking themselves under the base of the leather collar that told him so. “Not like that, pancake,” Casey said hoarsely, tugging on the band around his neck. “Let me show you what I like ... mmnhh, yeah, suck it a little more.”

Chuck fought not to pull back on the pressure around his neck and ask him what he meant by that. God, if only he could talk, because seriously, he thought that’s what he was doing.

Fortunately, what Casey liked wasn’t enough to make Chuck sputter and choke. At least not yet. His boyfriend used those two fingers fastened under the collar to steer him – sinking in, almost to the point where the kid felt the back of his throat tighten, right before he tugged him back. Only to sink his mouth down again. Repeat ... and repeat. And ... well, okay. Granted. This was slightly faster than he was doing a few seconds ago, but other than that it was literally the same move.

Casey seemed to know what he was doing – and don’t wonder if he’s done this before. No, just let go and relax. So Chuck tried that, not over-thinking, and it seemed to be working because he let out a bottled up moan.

“Fuck, yeah. Feels good when you do that.” Using his fingers on the collar to steer him up and down, Casey added a bit more thrust up into Chuck’s parted lips. With his other hand, fingers were now twisting in his curls, holding him steady.

Chuck found that he was able to unwind and just concentrate on his tongue; dragging down, giving him suction on the way up. His jaw had to work a little harder, but he was pretty sure it was worth it to get a rumbly groan out of his boyfriend.

Casey’s fucking me like this, Chuck thought before he could block it out. Maybe what he was blocking out was the fact he didn’t mind it. At all. His yearning was good, Casey was telling him.

“You’re perfect, kid ... you know that?” Casey breathed out, using the collar to draw him down just a tad more over a few inches of hard cock. The position had Chuck parting his lips wider to accommodate him, and he couldn’t help but moan again around Casey’s prick. “Fuck ... conas a rinne me a fhaigheann tu.”

Without knowing what he meant, Chuck responded by digging his fingertips into the hard meat of Casey’s thighs. It had to be words of lust, as Casey would never say something intimate. That much, he knew.

“Taking all of it now, aren’t you, puppy?” Casey asked, stroking his hair. “Yeah ... don’t fucking stop now ....”

It was obscene to hear him, more obscene that it made his brain hazy and unable to do anything but swallow him down with more purpose. Confidence growing, Chuck began to fondle Casey’s balls, cupping them in his palm -

“Shit.” There was a tug, not in the direction he expected. “Need those for later, kid,” Casey said, almost sounding like he was talking between his teeth. “Still have some to learn, eh?”

Okay, note to self. Not all of him is made of dang iron.

Chuck apologized by sinking down, trying to keep his mouth moving in a rhythm. But if he owed Casey reparation for mishandling the jewels, he was really going to have to make amends for what he planned to do next.

About two seconds later, Chuck took Casey unawares by twisting the larger man’s hand off the collar. As soon as he was free, well, of course, the kid had to climb to his feet to stare directly into Casey’s startled – correction, just this side of pissed-off - eyes.

“You know,” Chuck said, “I was thinking about something.”

“Wanna know what I’m thinking?” Casey growled, leaning in close enough for their noses to touch.

“No, no, no.” Chuck waved him off and flashed a grin. “I was thinking that this is nothing like this morning. Remember? Finish the job?”

Casey narrowed his eyes. Maybe he didn’t know it, but his fist tightened around the tether a tiny amount. “Thought that’s where you were headed, Bartowski. Unless you got somewhere else to go?” And you sure as hell don’t’ he didn’t need to add.

“Nope. It’s all wrong.”

He wasn’t really long for this world, Chuck figured, unless he got to the point. He could practically hear Casey grinding his teeth in frustration. “Seemed okay by me, princess.”

“It’s not like you to forget details.” Chuck’s reflexes betrayed him, though, and before he could think, the kid wrapped both arms low on Casey’s waist. Now their bodies were pressed together in a way that made his knees want to give out. “For one, I didn’t have anything around my neck.”

“Nice try,” Casey said. His dick was more pleased with the positioning, however, and he automatically gave a small drag across Chuck’s lower stomach. “That’s not going anywhere.”

“Well, okay.” Chuck straightened and tried not to go cross-eyed at the next deliciously slow drag. Oh, that bastard. “But another thing. You were on your back and, if I remember correctly –”

“Cuffs are broken. Or did you want to forget that?” Casey leered. Fingers began caressing his spine, tickling.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Chuck said, wanting to wince at the memory. “But I meant to, ah, get you into bed.”

Casey brought a hand down, reaching between them to fondle Chuck’s cock, though the kid was pretty certain he didn’t ask.

“Okay, permission granted,” Chuck said.

“What?”

“Er, n-nothing. Oh.” The moment Chuck arched into his palm, Casey pulled the kid in tighter with the hand around his waist, making him feel the press of those muscular thighs and abdomen. Giving him a few more strokes, Casey then brought his head forward, enough for Chuck to feel hot breath against his cheek.

“Goddamn, you are something else,” he murmured, no rancor at all. Casey said a few other words in a breath to his ear, something Chuck could barely discern. ‘Make me damn helpless, don’t you?’

“I’m ... not trying to do anything to you,” Chuck said. But he found himself curling closer, slanting his head so that his cheek caught on Casey’s stubble. Even that little bit of friction made it hard to think, and his hand started moving, sliding over Casey’s stomach, over the hard muscles and lower to the curly hair. “I wanted to take it ... a little slower.”

“You really want to kill me, don’t you?”

“Under these circumstances, no.”

“I don’t even want to know about the other ones, then.” Casey eyed him for a minute and chuckled, the signal that he’d go along with just about anything the kid would suggest at this point. “So what do you plan on doing?”

“Lay down.”

The larger man let Chuck nudge him around to point him at the bed. The movement ended the rubbing along their cocks, and that only made the kid more insistent to get it back. Ignoring Casey’s curious squint, he pressed and hauled him until his boyfriend sat down on the mattress and brought his legs up.

“There. On my back ... and naked as the day I was hatched. That what you wanted, brown eyes?”

“Without that smirk-y look, yes.” Who was he kidding? Smirk or not, he had to enjoy the sight. Six feet plus of a beautiful terrain of curved muscle and pale flesh stretched out beneath him. Never one to be possessive, Chuck shocked himself by immediately thinking ‘all mine.’ Holy God, all his.

When he put his knee on the bed, Chuck looked up to see he was caught in an amused gleam. “You have a pretty mouth, cupcake,” Casey said, contemplating as he tucked a hand under his head on the pillow. “All sweet as sugar. But I have to admit, I like getting it dirty from time to time.”

Chuck closed his eyes and flushed at the quick flashback that went through his mind. He hid it by crawling over him, knees on the outside of Casey’s to straddle his hips, and leveled his eyes directly over a pair of keenly interested blue ones. “I’m generally a very clean person,” the kid said, waggling his brows. “I think you kind of ruined me.”

“Yeah?” Casey arched a brow back at him and ran a hand down Chuck’s ribcage. “Good. Does that mean I can just bend you over the end of the bed now? Or are your tender ass cheeks still lit up some?”

“You should, uh, try to break out of your shell a little, John. Anyone ever tell you how shy you are?”

A roving hand found one of the cheeks in question, and squeezed. “Why be shy when you can just take what you want?”

“Okay,” Chuck said, sliding his hand under the pillow and feeling somewhat nervous about it. But why not try? “I’m glad you feel that way.” It took a second to fish out the strip of cloth he had ‘borrowed’ from Casey, and then he held it up in front of his eyes. “I should ask though. Are you going to hold still, or try to pin me down if I attempt this?”

Casey laughed, the sound deep and inviting. “You gotta be kidding. You haven’t the first clue what to do with that. Do you, stud?”

“It’s a blindfold, Casey. Ergo, I think it’s nearly self-explanatory.”

Casey tucked his other hand under his head, linking his fingers, the bend making his upper arms look like tree trunks. “Let’s see if you can figure it out, genius.”

“Um.” Chuck sat up on his newly acquired perch and put his hands on his knees. “Do you think you could ... well ....”

“What?”

“I don’t know – maybe come up with a pose that’s a little less ... intimidating?” The kid swept a look over him. “Make it seem like I snuck up on you? Hey, I know. Should you pretend you’re sleeping?”

Casey stared. “Know something, boyo? The idea of flipping you over in about two seconds and fucking you until you stop talking is sounding better and better.”

“Not possible.”

“I can try.”

“All righty, then,” Chuck said. “Will you at least hold still?”

What had he done now? Casey eyed him, but eventually a smile crept to his lips. “I don’t mind, big shot. But I’m not letting go of the end of this, either,” he added, giving the line in his fist a little tug.

Now Chuck did blink. Casey would let him blindfold him? He waffled for a second, holding it in his hand – heck, this was a man who knew how to pounce when vulnerable – but before Casey could backpedal, the kid placed it over his eyes.

“Can you lift your head for me?” Chuck asked, and when Casey went along with it, he tied the ends together at his crown. Thank the gods of well-behaved hair that Casey didn’t have the kid’s quirky mop to contend with. When he was done, Chuck settled back to study what he could of his lover’s face, just the lower half from under the dark blue swathe. Beautiful mouth, he thought, and kissed it.

“Are you smiling?” he asked when he pulled back, his thumb stroking the smooth line of Casey’s shoulder.

“No, but my balls match the blindfold by now, don’t they?”

“You’re insinuating something,” Chuck said, grinning down now that Casey couldn’t see him. “You know, I kind of like being up here.”

Casey, either bored with his teasing or too horny to deal with it, reached around with two huge paws and clamped them on Chuck’s buttocks. His fingers dug in, bringing their dicks in contact again, sliding the kid up to skid across his heated belly. “Yeah? Come here, then, and show me.”

Chuck’s hips rolled, rocking back and forth over him without the kid giving them the say-so. “Oh. That’s ....” Not what he had planned, but he’d go with it.

“Your body knows what to do, long legs,” Casey said, biting his bottom lip as he pulled and dragged him by the bottom, not stopping until they rubbed stiff cock to cock. “Your big brain ever gonna figure it out?”

He’s doing it again. He’s being a controlling big bastard. Chuck sat up on his knees away from the hot temptation, and leaned over him. “Not like that,” the kid said.

If the wrinkled brow over the cloth meant anything, Casey looked none too pleased over losing the bit of friction he had found. He reached up and drew a hand over Chuck’s thigh and a deep breath left him. “Not exactly how I pictured it, muffin,” he muttered.

In a move to appease the angry bear, Chuck lowered his mouth and pressed a pair of soft lips to his throat, a tactic that actually made Casey jerk. Defensive reflexes. Well, it made sense. “Just me,” the kid breathed in his ear, moving over to lay a smiling kiss on his cheek, his damp temple. “Answer a question for me first.”

From his seat, he had a perfect view when Casey swallowed. “What is it?”

“Why do you like it?” Chuck asked, regretting that he couldn’t see his partner’s eyes. “The dark ... unseeing. You have reasons for everything, Casey.”

Casey’s thumb, resting on Chuck’s upper thigh, drew tiny circles as he debated how much to say. “Shit. A kid like you ... all wide-eyed and shiny,” he said a bit bitterly, almost to himself. “Clean as the day the midwife slapped your howling regal-born ass. Bet you never had a reason to just be in the dark ... the quiet. When all you have to do is feel how good it is.”

Chuck hesitated, not sure what to say to that. Words from a deeply honest place had unburied themselves, not at all what he expected. Maybe trust and desire were easier to hold onto in the dark. As Casey’s touch moved from his thigh to the kid’s stomach, Chuck captured his fingers and kissed them, hoping that was answer enough.

Apparently it was since Casey’s lips curved into a smile. “Don’t think about that right now,” he said. “Get back to what you were doing, kid ... or did you forget I hate waiting?”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I happen to be very patient.” But knowing Casey would have no problem giving him another swat on the ass, Chuck momentarily placated him the best he knew how. Lowering his head, he kissed him on his unsuspecting lips, letting his own cock drag along Casey’s belly. “I like finding out more about you, personally. So you can just lay there and let me do this?”

It surprised him to hear Casey chuckle, even more so when he settled his broad shoulders into the pillow. “Thin ice, kid. But I’ll allow it.”

“Kind of you,” Chuck said. He shifted, sliding down Casey’s body, his lips nipping and exploring on the way down all of that glorious flesh. His cheek slid over one nipple and that little bit of nub tightened, catching his attention. He rubbed it again, abrading it with the edge of his teeth. “Is this good?”

“Could be better.” Casey thrust upward at the touch of the kid’s tongue on his body, like he needed interpretation. “Wondering if I’m going to have to show you where to put it. You seem to get a little lost down there.”

Chuck bit him lightly on one pec, smiling when Casey’s ribcage hitched. He lowered himself and ran his tongue on Casey’s thigh, lips nuzzling the base of his cock, rubbing his knuckles slowly up and down the opposite column of his thigh. Something hard yet silky dragged along his chin. Right - he probably shouldn’t tease him quite like this, but the kid first brushed his testicles with his fingertips, and then gave in to the temptation of licking his hip bone.

“Ah, hell,” Casey breathed, thrusting his hips again. “Want to feel what you can do, stud ... or haven’t you figured out how to please a man?”

Tilting his head to see Casey sprawled, the cloth over his eyes, Chuck took hold of Casey’s prick. “Does this ... please you, John?” he asked, a warm exhalation making his cock strain towards his mouth. “Or this?”

Bending lower, Chuck licked a warm, wet stripe down his cock, red tip to base. He explored him with his tongue as he had before, and worked to get him wet again.

The reaction was immediate, satisfying. A low groan, another slight thrust up into his hand. “Christ ... do it ....”

That little sound, almost like a plea, was all it took. Bowing his head, Chuck slid his hand down Casey’s taut stomach, the hard slope of his thighs. “God, you are too much,” the kid whispered, one long lick trailing the underside of Casey’s cock. He opened and took him deep, feeling Casey grow harder, thicker against his tongue.

“Mnhh. Christ ... you should do that again.” Casey’s testicles shifted convulsively under the caress of Chuck’s thumb, the taste of his come already leaking.

Chuck obeyed with no complaints whatsoever since his own cock grew rock-hard at the idea of giving just as well as getting. The inches of hard shaft in his mouth gave him a niggling worry that he could come so damn easily, just like this. Just by sucking, or with Casey making wonderfully deep and obscene sounds over his head. He could not even think of stopping, though, so the kid fended off any embarrassment by getting his own hand off his cock. When did that even happen?

“Jesus, fuck ....” The leather around his neck jerked, just once. Crap. Maybe Casey forgot about giving the kid enough play on the line, but a moment later Chuck had his freedom of movement again.

Good, because he was going to need it.

A hand landed on his head, moving with the rhythm Chuck had established – or perhaps it was the other way around, but the kid wasn’t keeping points. As Casey’s fingers flexed, he rocked up with his hips off the mattress, helping Chuck take as much of him as he could.

It took all the thinking out of it. Just Casey’s cock. Sinking and taking and sucking, up and down.

“Like it when I fuck your mouth, brown eyes?” Casey said, and this gasp, the kid could feel. “Like ... sucking me?”

He wanted to curse his cheeks, burning at the insinuation. More, because it was the truth. The rough words only made Chuck want to abandon any inhibitions. He responded by hollowing his cheeks on the way up, flicking the sensitive underside with his tongue. That had to be good, right?

“Bartowski ... mmng ... you were paying attention ... oh fuck.”

When Chuck glanced up, the part of Casey’s face that he could see gave away everything. Casey had his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Chuck was sure if he lifted the blindfold, his eyes would barely register him, but the kid would be able to see it all. All of the wanting and lust, the desire to shed everything and leave it in a pool of shame. Just to be with him.

“Don’t ... shit.”

Chuck knew the crescendo of that song, and how the ending played out. So shutting his eyes tightly, he put all of himself into it. Mouth pulling on tight flesh, increasing suction as Casey wrapped his fingers around curls –

“Easy ... easy, kid.”

What did he say?

A second later, Chuck had a choice. He could scramble up to wherever the hell that taut strand of leather was taking him, or let the rope dig in and strangle him, leaving Casey with his lifeless corpse sprawled over his torso. Not to mention the massive hard on and that only serves him right, that jerk!

Asphyxiation on a leash in the midst of ... well, doing that was not the way the kid planned on leaving this shaky place.

Seriously, God. Could you have sent me one just a little bit less insane?

Choking out a mouthful of Casey, Chuck tried to suck in air that wasn’t there. Giving in to a fit of labored wheezing, he managed to get up on all fours. Convenient, too, because that way he’d be able to glare his displeasure at Casey.

“Hey. The hell, Bartowski.” The snap in his voice made Chuck realize Casey had slid the blindfold off his head and was now sitting up. A hand came to the side of his jaw and throat, dragging Chuck’s attention to meet his stern gaze. “Chuck. Breathe. Slow down.” Casey’s voice lowered, easing him. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“H-hear you?”

“I said stop.” Casey drew his thumb under the collar, tipping Chuck’s head up. “That’s enough.”

Chuck coughed again and just continued to glare at him. “I was kind of preoccupied, you know.”

“I mighta noticed.” Despite the smartass comment, Casey didn’t give him the usual smirk. Rather, he studied Chuck’s face and when he shifted his hand on the side of his neck, the kid could feel his lover’s pulse racing. “You’re getting too good at your job, brown eyes.”

“My – job? I like to think I have other talents.”

“Yeah, but remembering how badly I wanna fuck you isn’t one of them.”

“Hey, that’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“No, but this is.” He hooked his hand in the collar and pulled, at least gently now, until the kid straddled his hips. “There,” Casey said. “If I would’ve let you keep going, muffin, I wouldn’t be able to give you the rest.”

“So let me get this straight,” Chuck said, “it will be you doing the giving?”

A grin leaning this side of evil crossed Casey’s face. “I can be a giver, you know.”

“Yes, but how willing are you?”

“Kid, you have no idea.” Before Chuck could add to a conversation that Casey really didn’t want to have, he ran his hands up the kid’s arms and tugged him down for a kiss, sliding his tongue right inside. Chuck, still recovering from the collar incident, pushed it back – or tried to, but his own tongue seemed incapable of doing anything but sliding along Casey’s, delving in just as deeply.

God, well, that was it. Casey wrapped his arm around Chuck’s waist and pressed in a little harder. Somehow, the kid’s automatic reaction was to soften his mouth and yield to him. Enough so that Casey could then catch his bottom lip between his teeth, suck it into his mouth. Chuck made a muffled sound; roughly translated, it meant he was willing to do anything.

Casey pulled back and smiled, proving he deciphered the little noise of eagerness perfectly. “Like it when you see things my way.”

“Your way?”

“Like this.”

Casey moved his hand down Chuck’s chest to reach for his cock, gripped him. Feeling his fingers take over, the kid couldn’t help it, his body reacted. Without a thought or care of how wanton he seemed, he grabbed on to Casey’s shoulders and began to buck and thrust into his palm. The kid’s last scrap of sanity told him he shouldn’t give in so easily. He told it to shut up and enjoy the view.

“Casey. Gah. Okay, okay, I – see your point.”

“Yeah? Here’s another one for you.” Casey passed a hand over Chuck’s hair, ruffled a few curls. The tender touch was offset when he then exerted a bit of downward pressure on the leash, steering him in closer, lower. “Don’t roll over on your back, puppy,” he told him. “I want you on your hands and knees this time.”

Just in case any of that could be misinterpreted – though Chuck highly doubted it – the demand came with a playful slap to the kid’s left butt cheek.

“Hey – watch it!”

“Well, get your ass up in the air for me.”

Chuck frowned at him, though it was difficult to argue with his cock telling him the same thing. “You’re enjoying this immensely, aren’t you?”

“See me walking away?” Casey asked, and leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Chuck’s throat. And, oh. He bit down harder than the kid expected, suckled the tender spot while Chuck swallowed and closed his eyes, staying still, even while knowing it would leave a small love bruise.

“Y-you drive me crazy, you know that?” Chuck managed.

“I know.” Casey’s hand slipped down over Chuck’s flat stomach, but gave him a little push instead of going lower. “Do it. Hands and knees.”

Chuck’s brows drew down, giving Casey a perturbed look that would have greater impact if he wasn’t sporting a hard on the size of Kiowa county. “Just like that? Get down and spread them? Wow. Who said romance was dead?”

“Romance, eh? Save it for later.” Casey patted the bed. “Here.”

Chuck glanced down at the spot. For sake of pride, he pretended to dither, but he couldn’t think of a reason in hell not to move. Unfolding his arms, he walked on his knees to the center of the bed, and when he looked over at Casey, he knew his cheeks were as pink as the handprint that still had to be gracing his backside. “There. Is that what you wanted?”

Casey rolled his eyes. “Not even close, button,” he said, and he hooked a finger under the collar at Chuck’s throat, forcing the kid’s eyes to startle. “Answer a question for me.”

Chuck gave him a wary look. “No promises.”

A hand came around to his waist, following the curve of one buttock. “Was it sucking my cock that got you hard again,” Casey asked, low, “or was it the leather around your neck?”

“I – I don’t know ... specifically.” Chuck let loose a breath and wet his lips, not daring to look at him. “Jesus, Casey. You have to ask?”

“Heh.” Letting his fingers fall from the collar, Casey guided his face to him, took his lips in another kiss. Before the kid could sort out how he would ever answer that question, he responded with his tongue, ending up deepening the kiss, wanting more, though how it was possible he didn’t know. The response earned another. Casey slid his hands to the small of Chuck’s back, hips touching his, drawing it out with a just a touch more heat. It was the kind of searing pleasure that could make them tear at each other like animals, if one of them didn’t pull back.

Casey spoke against his lips. “Men can enjoy the feel of leather against their skin, rough ... smooth. Doesn’t make you less or more of a man.” He tilted his head to speak into the kid’s ear, teasing him. “It’s okay. Doesn’t change who you are. You’re always going to be you. Shy ... smart, stubborn. When we’re in here, it’s okay to get what you want.”

“I never ... said that.” Chuck ducked his head, avoiding Casey’s smile. “I don’t think about it ... things like that.”

“Don’t have to say it, kid.” Casey put a hand on his belly and fingertips clutched. Not half-assed. He meant something when he touched. “Your body ... it says everything.”

Then he bent over Chuck and gave him a softer kiss. The taste of Casey spread through his whole body along with a tingle. Maybe it was to keep the kid off balance. When he thought Casey would take a rough kiss, he’d only press his lips to his, barely touching.

Treating him with such affection and intimacy had Chuck push down his worry of what was going through Casey’s mind. That made room for other thoughts, because by now he wanted to just sink his teeth into the meat of his broad chest or muscled thighs and taste all of him.

Chuck let Casey cup his face for one last brush of lips before he placed his hands on the mattress. Now he was on all fours and somehow that made the leather collar feel slightly heavier around his neck. Even weightier since he didn’t mind saying he belonged to Casey. Like a symbol of being fettered that would be there even after his lover untangled the knot.

Trying not to think of how he looked to Casey, Chuck closed his eyes, expecting to feel a touch along his backside, along his spine.

What he didn’t expect was the mattress to creak and rustle, or feel Casey move away from him.

“Really, Casey?” Chuck said. “Please tell me you’re not going somewhere again.”

“You’re fine where you are, puppy, just like that.”

Chuck dared not to look up into what he knew was a mischievous grin. “Just so you know, I won’t be writing home about this moment.”

He heard Casey chuckle as he dug through his pack. “Just getting the slick stuff,” he said. There was a pause, more rustling. “Unless you want the neighbors to hear you howling. ’Course, that might send the man-trap trying to rope you.”

“Oh, God.” Chuck got down on his elbows and linked his fingers together, rested his head on his hands. “Please don’t bring up -”

“The tall blonde gal who wants to jump your bones?”

Chuck sighed into his hands. “Yes.”

Casey snickered. “Though if she could see you now, goddess, it would put an end to her courting you.”

“Do you really want to chat about this now?” Chuck asked, talking into the blanket.

Evidently Casey found the tin, since the bag landed on the floor. Chuck heard him pad up to the bed, felt a hand on his spine. “You’re right, kid,” he said. “The only thing I want to do now is forget about this place. I want to ... just look at you.”

“Me?” Chuck kept his head down, his eyes closed. He didn’t need to open them to know every inch of his body was being scrutinized. “Nothing to see.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong.” Casey eased back onto the mattress directly behind him until his haunches brushed against Chuck’s calves. “Not what I see at all.” Something warm and soft was on his skin, skimming along the dip of his spine. He’s licking me, using his mouth.

Chuck let out a breath, a quiver running over each vertebrae. “Mm. Nicer.”

The smooth drag moved to the small of his back, the hollow dip, the swell of his ass cheeks. “Irresistible, kid,” Casey said. “Too shy to ask me to do anything to you. Barely can picture what you want ... though you do your best not to think about it.”

“You don’t know what I think.” Oh, I do think about that, right there.

“But tonight you had your turn, eh?” Casey ran his knuckles down the center of his back, and Chuck wet his throat, forcing himself to remain still. “Gave you the tiniest taste of pain ... mostly pleasure so you don’t know which is which.”

“Parts of me know which is which,” the kid muttered.

“Yeah? You needed that part.” Casey emphasized his point with a grunt, his prick against Chuck’s hip. “God, yeah.”

“Oh,” Chuck breathed, and now he had to move. Backwards as it ended up, though he told his knees not to shift that way.

“Soon enough, kid,” Casey said, amusement in his voice. He positioned both hands on Chuck’s waist, fingers clamping down to hold him. Chuck stayed still and felt his knees nudged further apart. A hand followed the lead rope up his spine, to his neck, cupping the back of it. Then it cinched in a little tighter to keep his head pinned down. “Waiting to hear you try to tell me you don’t like it, boyo, because your hard on is saying something different.”

“I – I didn’t realize they had a language.”

Casey laughed and kissed his lower back. “Smartass,” he said, and the fingers at the back of his head threaded through Chuck’s curls. The penance for not shutting up was not a punishment at all, Chuck found out a half second later. Not when he felt Casey slide his long cock along the kid’s crease, thrusting, coming back. “There you go, kid. You got your lesson in manners already. Now you can have what you earned.”

“Earned? You big – ah you are a bad person ... shit.” There was a vulnerability to this position, Chuck felt it in every pore, now that his cheek rested on the blanket, his ass up and completely exposed. He was beginning to care less and less. “Oh ... that’s ....”

“Push back. Mm, feel that,” Casey said against his pale back, nipping at his shoulder blade with his teeth. “Feel how good it is ....”

“It’s ... what’re you – ah.”

Two fingers, good and slick, slipped down between Chuck’s buttocks. “Come here. Have something for you.”

“Oh ... God,” the kid whispered. One of Chuck’s legs slid along the outside of Casey’s knees, opening him up wider. Who knew his body had better instincts than his brain?

“Mm. Like it when I do that? Make you slippery,” Casey murmured, one hand braced down on his ass, spreading for him. “You need more, though, don’t you?” His hand pulled back. A few seconds passed before Chuck felt it again, slick as grease, touching his hole. “There?”

“Ah ... more.” Jesus, did he say that? Chuck bit down on his lip to stop the chatter, though he had a sense Casey loved it. A finger prodded, tested, and the kid felt his body squeeze tight against it for a moment before Casey distracted him with another kiss on the small of his back, a series of gentle strokes that relaxed his long limbs.

“Want me in you, puppy? All the way?”

Already buried so deep there, didn’t he know?

Casey rubbed his stubble along his back, knowing it would make him unfocused a bit where his hand worked magic. Then Chuck felt his fingers slide right into him, past the ring of muscle that tightened up and clenched.

“Oh ... Casey ....” Chuck’s body rippled around him, reflexively pushing back, taking more. “S’good. Do that ....”

Casey breathed out, the hand on his buttocks clasping hard. He pulled his finger out, only to push it in again. And again. “Just like that, kid. Come back on it.”

“You ... should – mmph.” Chuck’s tongue slipped out to wet his lips, then he bit down on the tip of it. Casey had to be watching his profile, gauging every poke and slide. “John, that’s ... come on.”

“Look at you, kid,” Casey said. “Temptation in the flesh. Know that?”

Carefully, gently, he added another finger, and Chuck sucked in a breath, his body thrumming. He was beginning to know how to relax himself, how to take him a little easier. “I - I think you sh- ah - shit.”

“Yeah? See how good that feels?” Now Casey had a rhythm, speeding up, going deeper. His dick rubbed against the kid’s crease, up and down, pressing between the curve of his cheeks. “Wait until I put that inside you.”

Please. Chuck wanted that so badly he ached. Mercifully, Casey figured he was as ready as he was going to be. How could they not after what seemed like hours of messing around? The larger man ran a hand back and forth over the small his back, settle kid, lined himself to Chuck’s hole, ready to push into him. Chuck was motionless against him, trembling, holding air in his lungs, feeling Casey’s shaft prodding at his pucker. The need hurt, way more than anything he’d feel in a minute from now. He knew that much, at least.

“Casey ... Casey ....” Chuck groaned when he felt Casey shift on his knees. “God ....”

“Shh. Right here. Love to hear that, kid.” Casey reached around Chuck’s waist, taking hold of his cock without fumbling as he slid in just a scant inch. Pulled back. Did it again. “Gonna make you burn a little, brown eyes. You like that, though, don’t you?”

“Fuck, C-Casey.” Honestly, his own cock nearly punching a hole through the mattress could’ve told him that. It jumped in Casey’s palm as he pressed inside, making Chuck bite down on the inside of his cheek, trying to hold onto his bearings.

“Perfect little ass, kid,” Casey murmured hoarsely. He stroked and pushed, the rhythm causing Chuck to push right back into him, which seemed to be his intent. “Tight for me ... Jesus.”

Enough was enough. All of the teasing, the stops and starts, kissing and fondling made both of them begin to break loose. Casey worked him good, pushed into Chuck, pulling on his prick and telling him what a good boy he was. What a fine ass to give him ...

“Yeah, good. Keep pushing back like that, pancake. Whatever you want, you can have ... Christ.

Oh, God, he was doing it, too. Arching, moving instinctively into and around his greased stiff cock, begging for attention.

The one time he didn’t feel broken on the inside, fitting perfectly to him.

“Casey,” Chuck heard himself repeat, like a little plea in his throat. Rocking back, the kid could feel Casey break his control. Not the easy pace he had started with, yet just this side of not hard enough to hurt. As Casey thrust in, his palm glided downward on Chuck’s cock, forcing him to shove backwards. The move seated Casey all the way, deep and everywhere inside him. Hard enough to feel the burn of him, to feel a thousand pinpricks of stings.

“There you are, kid. Rock that ass, fuck my cock.” The fingers on the collar held tight, using the grip to tug him in. What was left of the headboard rocked against the wall, banging in sync with Chuck’s insides shuddering. “God, yeah, keep going. Good at that ....”

“John ... I can’t ... want you ....” Casey’s fault. This is why Chuck couldn’t think. Just a hot, pleading mess, and couldn’t he hear that?

They pushed, drove to each other, Casey leaning over to cover Chuck. The furred, muscled chest was heavy on the kid’s back, damp with perspiration. “Right here with you,” Casey told him. “Yeah, all mine .... all of it.”

“Holy Christ,” Chuck groaned. He could feel it. Each time Casey rammed home caused his lower belly to twist and flip. It was too much. Things sort of got fuzzy, his eyes rolling with the pleasure of it. Gripping the blanket in his fists, he felt Casey stretch into him, making the ache inside him deeper, sharper. “Casey – going to –”

“Yeah, gonna come for me, kid?” Casey let go of the collar, staying draped over Chuck’s back and gripping the pulsing weight of his cock. “Gonna come all over me?” Oh God. A second later, Chuck was coming, his ass muscles clenching Casey like a fist. Another low growl answered his erratic movements, Casey shuffling his knees to press harder, go further. “God, Chuck ... ready for me ....”

“Need you ... oh.” Chuck quivered and rocked back, then stilled as Casey set his teeth into his shoulder, letting go, jetting into him. “S’ hot ... that’s it.”

Casey molded into the curve of his back, holding him securely about the waist, still inside him as they both got their breath back. Everything slowed, thrusts weaker, more as if swaying and rocking. With their bodies pressed together, bare skin and warm flesh, it was as if one couldn’t exist without the other half, couldn’t breathe without that arm around him.

Making soothing little moans, Casey kissed the back of Chuck’s neck, nuzzling in under his dark curls. “Jesus fucking Christ .... Gonna be the death of me, aren’t you?”

“Are ... are you all right?” Chuck asked, knowing he sounded like an idiot, because he was fairly certain what happened a second ago sealed it.

“All right?” Casey snorted. “God. You are something else, kid.” He kissed the back of his neck again and rolled off of him. Keeping his arm wrapped around Chuck, he pulled him down in a loose heap next to his side, two lax piles of bones pressed together. Chuck couldn’t think of anything that felt better than this, until Casey reached out and touched his face, buried it there and whispered to him what a perfect kid he was. The places they would go together. Silky words, soft hair grazing his temple. Chuck closed his eyes and listened, feeling warm skin, his own fingers twitch spasmodically when Casey entwined their hands.

From the stillness between them, like the stillness when he immersed himself in finding a life, getting away, the vision of his future sharpened. The kid knew when they laid together, stood together, Chuck stood inside him, Casey stood within him. He accepted it deep down now, that he could let go of that bitter soul-breaking loneliness when he was with him. It was everything and way more than he needed from now on. Everything down to the soul of what they were together. Grounding him. That’s why they fit.

Casey broke him out of his wanderings by brushing a few wayward curls from his forehead and laid a kiss there. Took a deep breath and spoke quietly. “Maybe trust is being able to give yourself away to a man. Tomorrow, kid? You have to be able to trust. Trust that I’ll take care of you. Even if you don’t understand, it’s okay to put yourself in my hands.”

In the quiet place between sleep and wakefulness, Chuck briefly sensed one thought flit through his brain before it left him. What else in the heck was he talking about?

-x- End Chapter Twenty-Three Sins Fell Angels-x-


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Four

-x-

Somewhere between leaping off Pinon ridge with only gauzy paper wings and hearing the clock on his mantle chiming, Chuck focused on the fact that, as tired as he was, there were fingers tapping the top of his head attached to a man who had no respect for the sanctity of slumber.

“Go away,” Chuck said. “Still sleeping.”

“The amount of drool on the pillow told me that.”

“You woke me up to tell me this?”

The mattress shifted. “Miss me, sunshine?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I missed my own bed almost as much.”

“Not sure I like being compared to something full of goose feathers,” Casey observed as his hand ruffled the hair over Chuck’s ear. “Guess I’ll have to do much better next time.”

“Not that I’d mind, big guy,” Chuck said, grumbling, “though I’d prefer it if you could put that in your schedule a few hours from now.” He tugged the blanket up around his neck and kept his eyes closed, hoping Casey would take the hint not to bring that big, warm body next to him. If he did that, the importance of sleep would diminish in nothing flat.

“Any idea what time it is, princess?”

Chuck opened his eyes to see sunlight streaming through the tiny window at one end of his bedroom. He groaned, positive that the offensive beams of light had burned right into his eyeballs. Why the hell had the combined demons of sun and his boyfriend pick this morning to torture him, he had no idea, but maybe someone got smudges on Casey’s favorite Bowie knife, and he needed vengeance on an innocent man.

“Too early,” he said. “I trained myself when I was at school. I never sleep past six-thirty.”

“Better check your clock, then, genius.” Casey’s finger moved to trace Chuck’s jaw, an annoyance that proved he was having fun. It could also prove he was horny, except the kid was beginning to understand that was a pretty much a constant state for his boyfriend. “Or I could check it for you.”

Nailed it. Horny.

“Why?” Chuck tipped his chin to look at him through slits of eyes, his gaze settling on the brown duster Casey usually wore on the trail. “What time is it?”

“Eleven fifteen.”

Chuck’s eyes snapped open. “You’re joking.”

Casey’s hand landed on the other side of Chuck’s head, and he positioned his face directly over the kid’s sleepy eyes. No doubt, Chuck realized he was beginning to love staring up into that view, but right now it was pestering the hell out of him. “Thought I’d let you sleep in,” Casey said. “Besides, I had some business to take care of this morning.”

“Business? So that would be code for ..?”

Casey opened his mouth, and Chuck was certain it was to tell him to shut up with the questions. The agreement to be honest in their relationship stopped him, which was all right by Chuck because it saved him from being the one to remind his boyfriend of their new operating model. They were in this together now.

“I ... made a little side trip into the Podunk town over the ridge,” Casey said. “It’s still quite the shit hole, so no worries, kid. Nothing has changed.”

“Just a minute. Kiowa? You’ve already been there and back? Seven miles away?”

“I left before sunrise. You were still snoring.” Casey gave him a teasing smile. “Really cute-like, too, cupcake.”

“What were you doing there?”

Casey narrowed his eyes, recognizing the kid was testing him. Had to kill him, too, but he’d best get over it. Partners, remember? “I stopped at the mercantile and the hotel.”

“Morgan’s Mercantile?” Chuck raised his head. “You went inside?”

“Morgan’s,” Casey echoed as if he had to think about it. “Here I thought it said Moron’s on the shop sign. Heh. The name would certainly fit, too.”

Chuck bristled. Pointing out that Morgan was just excitable, however, would’ve been counterproductive. “You saw him? Morgan was there?”

“Well, there was someone short, bearded, and idiot looking ‘assisting me with all my shopping needs, fine sir.’” Casey shrugged. “So, yeah. I guess it was him.”

“Hang on,” Chuck said, sitting straight up. In his haste, the blanket fell below his hips, revealing bare skin down to his lower stomach. It was easy to forget he was completely naked under there until Casey’s eyes traveled down his chest and back up to his face. Chuck gave the blanket a little tug, but after last night modesty was probably a moot point. “You let Morgan see you?”

“He didn’t see me.”

“But you just said –”

“He saw Joseph Farnsworth.” A smirk broke out on Casey’s face. Without missing a beat, his voice rose to speak in a local dialect Chuck had never heard from him before. “’M just a ranch hand in Le Flore County. Little off the beaten path, I know, but the Waggoner’s have business with the Ralston’s up’n Boot Jack Ranch. I was just wonderin’ – not to offend any – if the proprietor of this here fine business knows where I could find me a calico queen to snuggle with for a few hours? Maybe some good rye whiskey to shoot down before’n? N’ the camp cookie needs sup-plies to make up some chow.”

“Are you nuts?” Chuck asked, though the whole charade made him stop short and stare. “What if he remembers your face? What if someone asks him about you?”

Casey gave the kid a ‘who do you think you’re talking to?’ stare. “He’ll tell them about a scraggy-bearded ranch hand, I suppose,” he said, slipping back into his normal voice.

“Beard? Oh, wait. I keep forgetting. You seem to be the master of disguises.”

“No seems about it, button.” It wasn’t braggadocios when he said it, just the plain truth. Leaving it at that, Casey’s eyes coursed over Chuck’s lips, down his neck to his flat stomach. A large, warm hand followed, touching him in a way Chuck recognized all too well. “Master of other skills I’d like to show you.”

“Easy, partner.” Chuck swatted his hand away, not yet ready for the demonstration. “Did he mention me?”

“Why would he mention you to Farnsworth?” Casey asked, giving him a scowl as he pulled back his abused hand.

“You’re a stranger who has come into town, right? Obviously, you’ve been to other places. Met other people on the road? It’s only natural that Morgan would ask.”

Casey sighed, still irritated. After a hesitation, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. “The moron had these hanging all over his store. Not to mention he had papered the front window and all along the street.”

“What is it?” Chuck snatched it from Casey’s fingers and unfolded what appeared to be a wrinkled poster, about eighteen by twelve inches and pretty packed with words. Even a drawing Chuck couldn’t begin to look at. After only taking a brief glance, he had to stop and swallow the lump that suddenly filled his throat. “This is all about ... me, isn’t it? Everything Morgan knows, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Casey said. “Gonna read it?”

The kid looked towards the window, digesting not only the fact his life had been boiled down to a few paragraphs, but the hurt behind it. “This is not ... I wish we didn’t have to leave like this.”

“Here. Give it to me.”

Chuck darted a look at his boyfriend, who held out his hand. “No, that’s okay.” Running his thumb over the faded paper, the kid could see it resembled the Wanted posters lining the Wall of Shame in Morgan’s store. “’Missing Person,’” Chuck began to read, and looked up. “Well, that’s a silver lining, I guess. He doesn’t think I’m dead.”

“You’re making too big of a fuss. Just read it.”

“Well, I was hoping I could do this this without you watching over me.”

“Get used to it, partner,” Casey said.

“Um, I should warn you, Morgan can get a little melodramatic on the topic of – hey! Give that back.”

Casey fluttered the page dramatically to show him how easy it was to steal it. “’Missing Person,’” he repeated, “‘The best friend a man could have, Chuck Bartowski.’” He looked over and cocked a brow at the missing man in question. “So you never told him your real name? Who you really are?”

“Of course not,” Chuck said. “I never felt guilty about it, either. There was no point, since as far as I’m concerned Charles Adams the Third and Keeper of the Cipher is dead. Oh, and there’s the tiny complication that Morgan’s not exactly the best at keeping secrets.”

Casey shook his head and went back to reading the poster. “Last seen in Kiowa County in mid-May. Wiry-built fellow over six feet tall with curly, dark hair and brown eyes. Very soft hair.”

Chuck suddenly wanted to find a hole to hide in. “Please tell me it doesn’t say that.”

“Twenty-seven years of age. Appearance of a hay seed, but clean-shaven, well-kept, and funny when you get to know him.” Casey pursed his lips, definitely sounding amused. “Detailed little bugger. Surprised the little moron didn’t say unsullied. Not that you have that problem to tinker with any longer.”

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Chuck said, self-consciously adjusting the blanket a little higher on his hips. It was not the time to remind Casey of the B-word, either, but he had been unsullied long before a tall, broad cowboy stumbled upon his farm. Casey seemed to like to forget that detail. “Can you just give it back?”

“’Enjoys working on gadgets and thingamagigs of all kinds,’” Casey went on, happy to ignore him. “Also likes sunset rides on Hogback Ridge, trips to Pueblo Lake ... and observing the swooping flight patterns of the Ruby-crowned Kinglet at dusk ..?’ What the fuck ...?”

The disgust on Casey’s face almost made Chuck want to smile rather than die of embarrassment. “Um, can I assume the last part was editorial and not included on my poster?”

“Fuck. Me. Running,” Casey said to that. He continued to stare in mute disbelief at the paper before he lowered it to give the kid a look of annoyance and, surprisingly, something that looked like suspicion. What the hell was that all about? “Are you sure there was nothing going on between you two that I should know about, Bartowski?”

“Don’t be a jerk,” Chuck muttered, knowing Casey was halfway pulling his leg. “I tried to warn you. Morgan can be a little overbearing when it comes to his ... well, it’s his term, so don’t blame me –”

“Spit it out.”

“Heterosexual life partner.”

For a long moment, Casey continued to squint at him, and Chuck shrunk back against what was left of the bed’s headboard, empathizing with any enemies Casey had faced in a gunfight. “So you told him,” Casey said, “that you like men.”

“Y-yes,” Chuck said, taking a deep breath. “Actually, one evening when Morgan came for supper, he mentioned something to me.”

“Like what?”

Oh, God. Don’t stammer like an idiot. “It’s a bit ... well, Morgan said he noticed me – and these are his words, and I wasn’t, I swear - smiling stupidly and dazed ... maybe staring at a ... certain man who had come into his store. The whole broad shouldered, good-looking cowboy type.” Chuck fiddled with a button on Casey’s coat and grinned. “A dime a dozen, really.”

“I’m sure. There’s a wealth of eligible playmates for you out here.” Casey’s gaze shifted briefly down the kid’s body before he turned to him with a smart ass grin. “Have a hankerin’ for that, eh?”

“Morgan exaggerated,” Chuck said petulantly.

“What did he do after you told him?”

“Well, he didn’t try to shove my face in the dirt or titter at me if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Happen much?”

“While I was growing up, yes,” Chuck confessed, grimacing as the memory flitted by.

Casey frowned. “What did he say?”

“Honestly? Not much. I could tell right then that he knew, and he was okay with it. Morgan said that I should find anyone who can make me happy - and there was no reason to hide.”

“In his perfect dream world, maybe. In the world you live in, muffin, you’re better off keeping your mouth shut.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Chuck was aware he had snapped a little harshly, but that part of his adolescence was like a tightening band across his chest. “I’m not ashamed of who I am, though ... or who I like. I may come with baggage, Casey, but that was one thing I accepted a long time ago.”

Casey grunted his appeasement. “Maybe the bearded dwarf ... is not completely a moronic choice as a friend.”

“I’ll take that as a ringing endorsement.” The topic had distracted his partner long enough for Chuck to snatch the paper from his hand, and he immediately took advantage of Casey’s lapse. “Okay, what else does it – oh, hell.” The kid felt his jaw fall open. “That – that doesn’t even look like me!”

Casey shifted on the mattress to look over his shoulder. “Hmm. Got the hair right, I reckon, but the rest of you looks like a skinny fence post wearing tatty overalls.”

“Wow. Glad you approve, boyfriend.” Chuck tried to crinkle up his very own Missing Persons poster. His momentary dejection at resembling Morgan’s hand-drawn version of a pole gave Casey his chance to take it from him again.

“‘He has a bright smile that could light up a bear cave,’” Casey read, and paused to arch a brow at him. “That much I can attest to, I suppose.”

“It does not say – oh, no.”

Casey, satisfied he had harassed him sufficiently, sat back again to enjoy Chuck’s fidgeting. “And you still think this guy doesn’t crave a little geek meat?”

“Give me that.” Glaring, Chuck ended the conversation by taking the paper and shoving it under the blanket.

“Yeah?” Casey glanced down. “Do I need to search you for it?”

“Um, naked? Remember?”

“All the better, kid.”

Knowing darn well Casey would get nothing but a handful of bare skin - or other pertinent parts- Chuck fended him off with a reluctant smile and a forearm. “Cut it out. What else did Morgan say to you?”

“Nothing much. A girl in a whore skirt came in and that seemed to nab his attention.”

“Anna. She works at the saloon.” Chuck bent his knees to rest his elbows on them. “Hey, something just occurred to me. I can’t believe you left me alone and sound asleep. Weren’t you the one who said they would eventually come back here looking for us?”

“Since it worked so well the first time.” While Chuck waited for a better answer, Casey tried to distract him by running a few fingers down the blanket covering Chuck’s calf. “Don’t look at me that way, princess. I came back, didn’t I?”

“That’s seriously all you have to say to that?”

Casey’s jaw tightened. This whole openness thing was going to be a bit rough on the big guy for a while. Or forever, as the case may be. “What else is there to say?” he asked.

“You’re kidding, right?” Chuck held up a hand. “You said you went to the hotel, and you don’t do anything without a reason. So I’m asking you, John, what did you see there?”

Casey gave him an ‘I’ll allow this for one minute longer, kid’ look. “Yes, they’re at the hotel,” he told him. “Had a feeling they’d hole up there. Your dear ol’ daddy. Rudy. Looks like they picked up a few new recruits along the way.”

“Recruits?”

“Hard cases. I also knew it would take some time to gather reinforcements, considering this is the only piss-poor excuse for a burg within twenty miles. They wouldn’t risk another shoot-out until they knew they could put a bullet in me.”

“A – what?”

“Well, Rudy’s a devious little prick with no conscious. Not an idiot.” Casey shrugged. “Jury’s still out on your daddy.”

“I can assure you, he’s no idiot,” Chuck said. “When do you think ..?”

“Not think. Know.”

“How?” Chuck leaned forward. Almost belatedly, he remembered to shift the blanket, though he had no idea why since he was certain Casey would relieve him of it shortly.

“You should’ve been there, pancake,” Casey said. Smirking at the thought, his fingers trailed down Chuck’s leg before Casey found his ankle under the blanket. He wrapped his hand around it and hung on. “Your sweet daddy, holding court at the breakfast table in the dining room, all muckety muck and high horse. Telling those men his sob story, how his poor son had been stolen and longed to come home. All the while eating off the fanciest china, sipping out of a tea cup, and nibbling his toast and jam.” Casey shook his head and startled Chuck by suddenly rising to his feet. Moving in the methodical way of his, he slipped out of his brown duster. “Puh. Whole thing was disgusting, but they ate up his story, lock, stock and barrel. Even the sheriff.”

“Sheriff Kemper was there?”

“He’s helping with the posse,” Casey said. “Biggest sucker of them all. Seemed to have a soft spot for you, kid. You and the moron.”

“How did you hear all of this?”

“I was in the dining room, a few tables away, enjoying my breakfast.” Casey laid his coat on the back of the chair before he returned to his seat on the bed, drawing his arms around Chuck’s folded legs. “My first plate of pancakes, anyway.”

Chuck reached up to clasp Casey’s fingers, putting a halt to his attempt at diversion. The look said he wasn’t pleased, but Chuck was determined to make him finish the story. “How in the world did they not see you?”

“Oh, they saw me,” Casey said. “Or Farnsworth, I should say. No one like your daddy wants anything to do with a rancher whose clothes smell like he’s been on the trail for weeks and has a beard that could be holding rodents.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t have you evicted.” Chuck let it go at that, instead reaching to scratch the back of his head. “When – when are they coming back for us?”

“They’ll have enough men and firepower gathered up by tonight, the sheriff figured. He said if we’ve lit out by then, they’ll be able to pick up the trail. Your father didn’t want to take that chance. He’s sending a few outriders ahead this afternoon. They’ll be up on the ridge to watch over the farm.”

“And by tonight, we’ll be ..?”

“Long gone, brown eyes,” Casey said.

Chuck cleared his throat a little. Did Casey know how hard this part was for him? Would always be? How long he’d been running? “There’s no other way, is there.”

It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Casey said anyway, and unbuckling his holster, he draped it over the coat. “We both knew this was going to happen. No changing it, kid.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier, Casey.” Chuck went down on his elbows and looked around the room. “Someday, I want to get to a place where I don’t have to leave. Where I don’t have to watch my back. A real home.”

“It’ll happen,” Casey said. “I promise.” As he leaned forward so that his stubble grazed Chuck’s temple, the kid felt his breath there, heard his voice deepen. “There will be a place at the end of the road ... where we can make a life.” His lips brushed Chuck’s neck, tickling, making his fingers convulse on the blanket. “Gonna soothe every welt they gave you, kid. Put everything back together again. You believe that?”

“It’ll take time, I know,” Chuck said, swallowing against his touch. “Casey?”

Casey’s mouth nuzzled the curls over his ear. “Hm?”

“A few months ago, did you ever think you’d say those things to another man ... and mean it?”

“No.”

Chuck turned his head, accidently bumping his nose on Casey’s, and grinned at him. “I wonder what changed all of that. Do you ever wonder?”

“Shut it,” Casey replied, one hand sliding up to thread his fingers through Chuck’s hair at the back of his head. “You think too much ... lemme take care of you.”

“Who will be taking care of who exactly?” Chuck asked, sucking in a breath because his warm lips really did cause goosebumps.

“I like to think of it as give-and-take.” Casey’s hand settled on Chuck’s chest, pressing him all the way back down. All the easier to stretch out on top of him, which he immediately did. “You’ll let me know if you agree.”

Feeling Casey’s big body lined up over his, a kiss on his shoulder, the kid closed his eyes and tried to forget about everything but his lover’s mouth on the hollow of his throat, or the scent of his skin and the trail – and

Holy hell.

Was that ..?

Chuck’s eyes shot open. “Bacon?”

“Not now,” Casey said without lifting his head. He pressed his lips to Chuck’s bare sternum, coursing over to his right nipple to lick. “Kind of busy here.”

“But ... is that my imagination, or do I really smell bacon?”

“Might also get a whiff of hot cakes cooling in the oven along with warm syrup,” Casey murmured, tilting his head for only a second before he turned his attention back to the kid’s nipple, his stomach. Something was now poking Chuck’s thigh. “If you’re a good boy,” he went on to breathe against his ribcage. “You can have whatever you want.”

“No, no, no,” Chuck blurted, and somehow, someway, by the luck of being skinny and fast and absolutely starving, he managed to wriggle out from under him. “I hate to break it to you, Casey, but right now, I need sustenance a bit more than ... well, what you were getting ready to give me, okay?”

Casey swung over on his back and ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself. He slipped into some Gaelic, Chuck noted, but the growling that accompanied those strange phrases needed no translation whatsoever.

“Good morning to you, too,” Chuck answered, jumping on one leg and then the other to get his pants on. “Why didn’t you tell me you picked up supplies? Bacon, hot cakes ... what else?”

“Getting ready to start the eggs. Everything else is warm in the oven.”

“Thank God.”

“Or you can thank me.”

Chuck made a snort that Casey would be proud of. While he slid his shirt over his shoulders, he risked approaching the bed. Not to mention its rather horny occupant, he reminded himself. “Um, sorry, big guy, but I didn’t realize I was starving until right this second.”

He wasn’t instantly thrown onto his back. Progress. Instead, Casey reached out and a hand went under Chuck’s shirt, splayed on his stomach. “You do need to gain about ten more pounds before I can call you skinny again. Feels like I’m going to break you in two, princess.”

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“And I should be offended at how much you prefer bacon.”

“You are a jackass, you know that?” Chuck smiled winningly and bent over him to steal a kiss, proud that he was able to wipe away what sure looked like a pout. “But if it’s any consolation, I love you more than eggs.”

It threw him. Especially since it came out of his own stupid mouth.

Did he say love?

That sound? That was Chuck sucking in a breath and swiveling around in nothing flat to pretend to have to look out the window. Or at his ridiculous feet or the ceiling, anything rather than the man in his bed who just heard him say he loved him.

You said it. Can’t you at least look at him?

When Chuck turned around and refocused his dark eyes, Casey no longer seemed annoyed with the interruption. The kid would’ve almost preferred that to the confusing expression he saw. Rather, the larger man was studying him intently, his brows drawn down, looking as if something hard and jagged suddenly got lodged in his throat. What in the world was he thinking?

The silence between them was broken when Casey finally let out a sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“Maybe I better go start the eggs,” he said.

-x-

“You said what now?” Chuck asked, though he’d heard Casey perfectly. Too perfectly. As in, there was no way in hell he wanted to do as Casey ordered, since it seemed to signal the beginning of an ending.

At that moment, Chuck was happy to sit on the wood countertop in the kitchen, next to the sink basin with his long legs dangling, and watch Casey pack supplies. The focus seemed to help him not think about tonight.

He’d have to think about it soon.

What if the men left them alone? What if Casey pulled another trick out of his bag, and his father decided to give up and go home? Farfetched, sure. But Chuck needed a miracle. A way out. A world where he didn’t have this god awful thing in his head.

By the looks of it, none of that was going to happen. Casey gazed at him levelly, his expression unchanged. “You heard me. You’ll only have as much room as the satchel will hold. That means you want to be particular with your belongings. Only the things you have to have.”

“It’s just a little odd, don’t you think? Having to put all my worldly possessions in a bag for the second time?”

“Try to pack light,” Casey said, rinsing their breakfast plates.

“Tools, my books. Of course, I have to bring all my designs and records.”

“Funny how all of those things are the opposite of packing light.”

“Are you crazy?” Chuck asked. “I know I can’t bring my prototype, but I have to at least bring the blue prints so that I can eventually build it again.”

“You’re determined, aren’t you?” Casey glanced at him before he let go of the hand pump. “Fly that thing?”

“I’m determined that man’s reach is up there,” Chuck said, nodding upward, “and I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s over the treetops one day ... or maybe the clouds, the moon.”

“Yeah? Hold your horses, dreamer boy, and pack up the rest of the coffee beans.”

Chuck huffed. He didn’t want to have this conversation now, but the Missing Persons poster weighed on him like lead. “I hate hurting Morgan,” he said.

Casey rolled his eyes, withholding his thoughts for a minute. Then he offered, “You’re not going to hurt him.”

“I’m his best friend. I’m disappearing without a word, and now he’s going to wonder for the rest of his life what happened to me. Doesn’t that qualify as hurting someone, John?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“He’s going to keep looking for me.”

“No, he won’t,” Casey said.

Chuck waited, wary, but knew that was about useless unless he pressed. “Why not?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Chuck made a face and filched the last piece of bacon off a plate. At times, he had to admire his boyfriend’s succinctness, but at the moment he found it bothersome. “Haven’t we had the discussion about one word answers?”

“The letter.”

“What?”

Casey lifted his tin coffee cup and took a slurp off the top, pleased with himself. “That’s two words, genius. Count ‘em.”

“Explain,” Chuck said, folding his arms over his chest.

“He’s not going to worry.”

Even though Casey had spoken under his breath, it was said adamantly enough for Chuck to sit up a little. “What about a letter?” the kid asked, wrinkling his nose at him.

Casey began sorting through ammo, so Chuck knew he had to be patient. That was a lot of ammo, after all. “He’s going to get a letter tomorrow that will explain everything,” Casey said after he stuffed a metal case into a side pocket.

Chuck blinked. “From who?”

“You, of course.”

“But I never wrote a letter.”

“Nope.” Casey held up a pistol, slid the bullets in with efficiency that made Chuck shiver, and tucked it away.

“Days like this I wish I was bigger than you. Because you know what I’d do?”

Casey looked up to wink at him. “Give me a spanking?”

“Tempting, but no,” Chuck said. “I’d hold you down and sit on you until you told me what I wanted to know. Seeing that you are my partner now?”

A noise between frustration and a groan caught in Casey’s chest.

“Nuh-uh. Growly noises aside, I’m still waiting.”

Casey narrowed his eyes, but finally shook his head in resignation. “Goddamn it. I forged a letter in your handwriting and left it at the post before I left town. There.”

“You forged my handwriting? How?”

“Easy enough,” Casey said, lifting a shoulder. “I’ve looked through your designs and notes. Saw your lettering. Being able to copy another man’s script is a handy skill to have in my line of work.”

“So I wrote a letter telling Morgan what exactly?’

“Hand me the other cup if you’re done with it.” Casey nodded and took it from him when Chuck didn’t move. Without looking up, he rinsed it out and packed it away.

Chuck admired the stall technique. “Did I ever tell you about the time Morgan and I argued over the best sandwich to take on a deserted island?”

“And I may leave you here if you do.”

“Talk.”

Casey’s replying grunt: I hate you sometimes. “You told him ... you didn’t find what you were looking for here, but you found it somewhere else. You said you were sorry for not telling him ... and it wasn’t goodbye because when you reached your new home, you’d send another letter.”

Chuck watched his face carefully. His boyfriend could deceive or divert when he needed to, and no doubt there was something troubling in his eyes, but he was telling the truth about this. “Did I say ... anything else?” the kid asked.

“You said you’re safe,” Casey said, “and not to worry about you anymore.”

“You’re sure he’ll pick it up at the post tomorrow?”

“I asked the uppish woman behind the counter to hand deliver it to the store, but not until then. Gave her five silver dollars for her troubles.”

Chuck wet his lips. “Thank you.”

“Happy now?” Deliberately, Casey looked up from stuffing away yet another bullet-holding plaything from his collection to narrow his eyes at him. “Can you get to work now, princess?”

“Not quite,” Chuck said.

The blue-eyed squint grew more intent. “Something tells me this isn’t about finishing our business upstairs, either.”

Honestly, Chuck was barely aware that they had started it. So was the call of his stomach. Telling himself this was now or ... well, not never, but the chance was there, the kid sat up taller on his perch on the countertop. “When you were in the mercantile,” he began tentatively, “and you saw my Missing Persons poster, was there anything else on Morgan’s Wall of Shame?”

“God, I hate asking this, but what the hell is a Wall of Shame?”

“It’s, uh, what we called the wall in the back of store,” Chuck explained. “Where Sheriff Kemper hung the Wanted posters?”

Resting a hand on his holster, a move Chuck had begun to notice Casey fell back on when he wanted to look even more badass – it worked – the larger man strolled over closer to where he sat on the counter. “This isn’t just your usual empty prattle,” he said. “What are you getting at?”

Chuck wanted to cross his arms over his chest, but he knew better. Casey seemed to have his own distinct way of dealing with those defiant moments, or times when he was simply done talking. If the kid had any chance of getting information from him without being carried upstairs on Casey’s back to finish earlier said business, he needed to be ready.

“The Pinkerton poster, claiming you’re a wanted man,” Chuck said. “A five thousand dollar reward.” When Casey’s face hardened, the walls seemed to creak and move inward a good foot, but Casey couldn’t just bully him every time the kid hit upon the topic of his past. Well, technically, he could, but that wasn’t enough to get Chuck to stop. “I saw it there,” he went on, “the time you followed me into town when I went to Morgan’s? The day before ... you left me. Don’t even try to tell me it wasn’t you because we both know it was.”

“Careful, Bartowski,” Casey said, sauntering in within reach.

Great. In hindsight, he should’ve planned this out, instead of trapping himself in the tight confines of the kitchen. But there was no backing down. “I remember every word of it, John. It was you. All there in print.”

“Yeah? Can’t wait to hear it.” Clearly, his tone meant the opposite.

Chuck forced a laugh and had to hope the noise didn’t sound as nervous as it did in his head. Now he was officially sliding headlong on thin ice ....

“’Mr. Gould led a scheme that attempted to defraud United Pacific Railroad, Mr. Jay Connolly, Esq. and property owner, and Black Rock financiers.’”

“Sure it didn’t say shut the hell up?”

“’Six feet four or five inches tall, over two hundred lbs., approximately 40 years of age, light blue eyes, no beard.’ Come on, Casey, there’s no talking yourself out of that description.”

“You gonna turn me in, princess?” Casey eyed him with some mirth at the thought of it. When Chuck didn’t answer, he took another step squarely into Chuck’s personal space, forcing the kid to shrink back. “Is that what this is about?”

“We both know it’s not.”

“Then do you mind getting to your point, kid? Because you’ve been to Black Rock. I’m sure you remember what it’s like. So you already know it’s not a dude ranch for debutantes and Yankee society members who want to pretend to be wranglers for a week. Playing their lawn croquet and having cook-outs.”

“I’m quite aware of your storied past when it comes to recent events at Black Rock.” Indignation had Chuck straightening. “I was there, remember?”

“What is this about?”

Chuck placed his hands on the counter on either side of his legs and leaned forward. He almost asked himself what was the worst Casey would do, but his brain luckily stopped him. Way too many scary possibilities. “Everything that happened before me, Casey. How did you get there? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but why in the hell were you there in first place? You don’t like being the one who’s not in charge. You’re more of the type to stage a revolution, aren’t you?”

“Against Black Rock.” Casey folded his arms over his chest. “I should’ve just taken down Liam. Is that it?”

“You – you could’ve done it – or at least tried. So I have to ask myself, why didn’t you start an insurgency, if you will, to overthrow an evil overlord. I mean, you’ve been living with a man that, as far as I can tell, would give the devil a run for his money.

“Let me give you a tip, muffin,” Casey said. “When it comes to Liam, don’t bet on the devil.”

“Irony, then,” Chuck remarked, wondering how long Casey would let this go on, “that you would choose to stay with him -”

“- work with him.”

“- considering you seem to have him pegged as the Prince of Darkness – which trust me, I can attest to.”

Was that anger in Casey’s eyes? Chuck gulped back his own shock, but he had no other choice except to push his luck.

“The only way it can all make sense to me, John, is the hanging.”

“You have it all figured out, I suppose.” Casey stepped in until their noses nearly touched. “Is that it, genius?”

“I – think I do, as a matter of fact.” Chuck gritted his teeth and willed himself not to lean backwards again. “Well, no, not completely, but enough.”

Casey glared at him. “Why don’t you fill me in, goddess. What hanging?”

“A, you’re very close, and B – okay, fine. You already admitted you knew about it the day you spied on Morgan and I in his store, so I know you heard what he said.”

“Yeah? I’d love to hear your version, kid.”

“Really. Because the look on your face says you’d rather have a dental extraction. With my rustiest pair of pliers.”

Casey didn’t so much as break a smile.

Chuck cleared his throat. “All right. If you were there, that means you heard Morgan read the poster the sheriff tacked up. Something about a legitimate hanging, one that was broken up by the man’s gang. It was right there in print, and you were tied to it somehow. You are Mr. Gould, right?”

“Why don’t you tell me what else you remember?” Ouch. Roughly, that translated to the threat that Chuck was about to find himself gagged.

“Er, how they shot a land owner and a sheriff who had attempted to carry out justice.” There. Whew.

“So?” Casey finally said.

“So? A hanging, for God sakes. A man rescued right before the platform dropped from his feet! People were killed.”

Casey put his hands on Chuck’s knees, a move that was undeniably intimidating, and without a doubt his intention. “You have no idea what happened that day.”

“No, I don’t,” Chuck said, “but I’m asking you one question. The man who got away. Call me crazy, but I have a feeling it was you.”

For the longest moment, it didn’t seem like Casey would answer. The other man just turned around and continued to pack, his attention focused on both the shell cartridges and the window towards the barn.

“Casey. I deserve to know. Oh, and for the record, you just checked those cartridges in the side pocket a few minutes ago.”

Casey slanted a sideways look at him, not pleased with being busted. After he began cinching down the ties on the pack, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. Chuck recognized the look well. He’d seen it several times since they arrived back at the farm. He called it the ‘Dammit, this is why I hate human feelings” look.

“Yeah, it was me,” Casey said.

“Wh-what?”

“You wanted to know, I told you. Now, if we can get back to packing –”

“No, no, no.” Chuck, who had gone wide-eyed at the admission, hopped down from the counter. “That’s not the end of it. By any means. If ... we’re going to make this work,” and now he waved his hands between them, “you need to at least answer a few questions.”

“Like hell I do.”

“Okay, comment retracted. You don’t have to do anything.” Chuck hesitated and reached out to take Casey’s hand before he could begin fishing through another pocket. “But as your partner, I’m asking you ... this one time, Casey. Tonight I’m leaving my home and my old life behind to go with you, and I think that gives me the privilege to know. What happened? Why ..?”

Casey snorted. “Why Liam, you mean?”

“Yes. That’s what I’m asking. You know the kind of man he is, yet you’ve been his partner for years.” Chuck gave Casey’s hand a bolstering squeeze. “Though not in that way, I hope –”

“Hell, no.”

“Thank God,” Chuck said, hiding his eyes by glancing to the side.

“Yeah? Not for lack of his trying,” Casey added under his breath.

Chuck’s brows lifted. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t want to ask about that.” That bastard! As if the kid needed to hate him more? “I only want to know how you ended up with him.”

“Think of it this way, kid,” Casey said, pulling his hand away. “I’m paying off the mother fucker of all debts.”

“Hell of a debt, Casey. I don’t get it.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” When Chuck gave him a confused look, Casey arched an eyebrow at the kid, a signal that Chuck should shut up and listen. He was only going to say this once. “I was young and stupid – about your age, actually,” Casey said, ignoring Chuck’s frown, “trying to get by day to day. I didn’t have the genteel upbringing some folks are allowed. I had to find my own way, and it wasn’t always proper.”

Chuck ignored the little dig. Frankly, his upbringing sucked and they both knew it. “Proper?”

“I was willing to take jobs others wouldn’t.” Casey’s face fell into stony lines. “It was gainful employment. And if I saw an acceptable risk, I took it.”

“And where, may I ask, were you when you embarked on your, um, illustrious career?”

“St. Louis.” Casey put some distance between them by turning his attention back to the motions of preparation. “Big city. Lots of people. Ways to blend in.”

Chuck watched as Casey held up yet another firearm he had retrieved from his pack. His thick fingers absolutely dwarfed the tiniest pistol Chuck had ever laid eyes on. Pretty, though. Curved mahogany handle. A silver barrel only about two inches long. “What are you doing with that?” the kid asked.

“You’ll need a gun.”

“You’re giving me one of your guns?”

“Lending. And as long as everything goes according to plan, you’ll never even have to pull it out of your coat or even get a fingerprint on it.”

“Because everything else has gone according to plan,” Chuck said, waving a hand listlessly at a shelf over his head full of bullet holes from the invasion the day before. “Uh, when do I get to hold it?”

Casey, in the midst of wiping an invisible smudge, looked up over the barrel at him and made a noise in the back of his throat. “When we’re ready to leave.”

“So what happened in St. Louis?” Chuck picked up a dirty fry pan, began working the pump, and shoved it under the water. It gave him something to do while he waited. And by God, he was going to out-wait him if he had to. “How did you meet Liam?”

Not to be pushed, Casey took his time working on the barrel before choosing his words carefully. “You could say I earned a reputation for getting jobs done – quietly, cleanly,” he answered. “Without drawing attention to myself. But in certain ‘social circles’, my methods got around.”

“He ... heard about you?”

“That’s right,” Casey said. “One night I was at Antoine’s – hoity-toity hotel, staking out a job – and I saw a man at a dinner table ... quiet, yet commanding an audience. As smooth as a rattlesnake, and blood as warm as one.”

“Liam?”

“O’ Doherty in the flesh,” Casey agreed softly, not looking at the kid. “Sent one of his ‘associates’ over to have me join them at their table. By the end of the evening, he requested my services – in more ways than one, but I turned him down flat on both counts.”

Just the thought of it made Chuck’s stomach twist, but he asked, “Why did you do that?”

“Exposure versus opportunity is your key, kid. I told him he was going out of his depth, to leave it alone.”

“Leave what alone?”

“The prettiest piece of ice and sky that ever came from a man’s hands,” Casey said, and the kid temporarily forgot he was in the middle of getting ready to flee at the wistful tone in his boyfriend’s voice. “Sapphires as big as acorns. Diamonds like fire. All lying around a neck as pale as a frog’s belly. Highfaluting wife of a state senator. Helps that she’s the daughter of W.T. Briscoe.”

“The name sounds familiar,” Chuck said.

“Owns enough property in the West to name a territory after him.”

“And Liam wanted you to steal the necklace, is that it?”

Casey gave him a cynical eye roll. “More than that. Said I had a lot of potential as an entrepreneur. He wanted me to join up with his firm because they could use a smart young man who knew how to be discreet.

“Huh.” Chuck tilted his head as he considered it. “Those are a lot of words that mean other things.”

“They do, but something tells me that even a greenhorn like you knew it was an idiotic proposition to steal the necklace.”

“Insult aside, did you tell him that?”

“In no uncertain terms.” Casey frowned as he moved on to his rifle, checking the bolt action. “I left him sitting there stone cold with his bribe in one hand and holding his cock in his other.”

“Nice visual.” Chuck dried his hands on a kitchen towel, trying to act nonchalant though his heart was racing at the prospect of his boyfriend finally telling him more than a story mostly peppered with grunts. “Then ... how did it happen? Working for Liam?”

His partner’s shoulders were wound so tight that Chuck could almost count each individual muscle poking through his shirt. Faced with such a stern mien, it took everything to stay in place, but Chuck managed without his habit of shuffling. “The next day, the necklace disappeared,” Casey said, his thumb testing the rifle’s chamber. He then turned his attention away from his shiny distraction to meet the kid’s inquisitive eyes. “As it turned out, her pretty bauble was recovered the day after that. Everyone was thrilled to see the thief arrested.”

“Okay, so who was the patsy willing to steal it in the first place?”

“Me.”

“You?” Chuck’s face dropped. “But you just said you refused. How – how did it end up being you?”

Moment of truth, big guy, and of course, what did he do? Casey shrugged like this was nothing. “Apparently, when they searched my quarters I was renting, they found it. All arranged and planted there according to Liam’s orders. No doubt about that.”

“What did you do?”

“What did you think I could do, princess?” Casey shook his head. “I was a young drifter, a no-account with no family or anyone who could vouch for me. Hell, not that they would.”

Chuck closed the distance between them in a few steps. It was clear he should touch his boyfriend, a hand on his arm, a reassuring palm wrapped around his waist, but at once he had a sense it would break the spell, make him stop, and the kid wasn’t willing for that to happen just yet. “They were going to hang you?”

“The sheriff had to make an example, didn’t he?” Casey asked. “Had to placate W.T. Briscoe and his son-in-law, the esteemed senator. How better than giving him a young swindler to invite to his very own lynching bee.”

“But it wasn’t you,” Chuck felt the need to say, feeling ridiculously protective. “How could they do that?”

“Look at me, kid,” Casey said, and he scoffed. “What do you see?” Objectively, a few words came to mind – giant, menacing, rough as tree bark – but Chuck kept quiet because he knew the other side. “Do you really think they gave a shit? The sheriff was relieved to get his claws in me to keep Briscoe happy, and the judge wanted to get this case cleared from the docket so that he could move along with his campaign.”

“His campaign?”

“Seems the good magistrate had aspirations to be appointed to the state supreme court. Having to deal with me was taking away from his glad-handing with the senator. Not to mention, I kindly provided the perfect platform for his lobbying. Showing he was part of the crusade against ‘gutless’ outlaws, helping to tame the West. It was all his way to get into office.”

Chuck didn’t feel anything but his heartbeat, now that it had risen to hammer between his ears. He pushed away a thousand questions and moved in closer until his hip brushed against Casey’s. “It was Liam. He got you out of there.”

It surprised the kid that Casey gave him a humorless half-smile. “Always have to be so damn smart, eh?” he said, studying Chuck’s face as he passed a thumb over his cheek. “Of course, the honored leader of Black Rock wouldn’t participate in such a crude event, but he brought a damn army to do his work. Shot W.T. in the process, too, all while a state senator huddled under the gallows with his wife. Rumor had it he actually shit himself, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out.”

“So they took you ..?”

“Underground for a while,” Casey said, “but I eventually ended up at Black Rock. With Liam.” He lifted his chin a little and glared. “They say he always gets what he wants ... and in this case, they were half right.”

“Half?” Chuck asked. “Not ... you said he didn’t ..?”

“I had no choice but to work for him, just as he had proposed back in St. Louis. I wouldn’t be his whore, though, and nothing could make me join him in the bedroom.”

“Oh, God, that bastard.”

“Not a damsel, kid, so you can unwind those pretty little fists.”

“What? Oh.” Chuck’s hands slowly dropped to his sides. The truth was he had no idea how they got there in the first place or what to do with them anyway. “Why – why didn’t you try to leave? I mean, eventually, you would have the chance.”

“And go back to what?” Casey asked in a lightning quick change of temper. “Let them make good on the hanging? Be on the run? Sleeping in barns and petty theft? You’re forgetting something, kid. Never had a place, never knew another way. He made certain I owed him my life. They’re still looking for that man. The one time it wasn’t me, but it doesn’t matter.” Casey folded his arms over his chest, using his body to lean into him a little. “Don’t kid yourself, tough stuff. Liam would sure as hell guarantee that they found me. Anything about that hard to understand?”

“I got it,” Chuck said when he found his voice. Getting braver, his eyes narrowed at his partner. “You’re no different than me, John Casey.”

“How the hell do you come to that conclusion?” Casey’s eyes swept over the kid, appraising, before he merely snorted. “Hell, look at you. If you found a silver dollar on the ground, you’d try to find the owner. You’ve never stepped out of line in your life.”

“It’s true,” Chuck said. “But that’s not what I mean. Not about this.” He slid one arm around his boyfriend’s waist, shuffling close enough to feel his warm breath against his neck. “You ... once told me I was a just a good boy. One that was lost. That I shouldn’t find what I’m looking for in a man like you.”

“I still say you’re a poor judge of a man,” Casey replied, and now that Chuck held him, his voice sounded a bit scratchier. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Chuck reached down and circled his fingers around Casey’s thick wrist, half expecting Casey would push him away. Instead, he stilled, and the kid pressed forward and dropped a kiss on the side of Casey’s neck. “Just be quiet, John.”

His life was just as stolen from him as Chuck’s was by the Cipher. And Casey was just as lost when he stumbled onto the farm.

Chuck wouldn’t tell him as much. For one, the argument wasn’t worth it. Hanging on was the only thing that made sense. So he burrowed against his warm body, wrapped his other arm around Casey’s middle, and just clung.

It took a long time before he felt Casey’s hand come around him, tighten his grip until their bodies were pressed so close he could feel breath rising and falling in Casey’s lungs. Chuck shifted and snuggled in as deep as he could into his shirt, resting his head on Casey’s hard shoulder, as his partner didn’t seem to want to let him go. The kid kept it inside rather than tell him what was swirling in his head. My hostage now, just as much.

Finally, Casey unlatched one of his arms from around Chuck’s waist and lifted a hand to swipe the kid’s cheek with the pad of his fingers. All that power focused on being gentle, lightly tracing the downward slope of his cheek. The only thing the kid could do was curl his body against him and close his eyes. It felt wonderful to find a man who wanted to touch him.

“Jesus,” he heard Casey whisper. His hand brushed Chuck’s temple with his thumb, tucking a few curls behind his ear. “You better get up to your loft, kid, and collect what you need. Time’s running out for us.”

-x-

His nervous energy had kicked in sometime during the packing process in the barn’s workshop. He wasn’t a total neatnik or anything, but by the time Chuck came down the ladder, every tool that he couldn’t bring had been polished and put away.

The quiet of the cavernous space in the barn gave his brain a chance to buzz around the words he had heard. Not yet ready to go back to the cabin, he grabbed a bale of straw and walked over to one of the stalls. They really did need to be cleaned out one last time. Well, not that any of them would still be here by tonight, but at least this time he wouldn’t leave a mess behind.

Chuck stabbed the pitchfork into the fresh straw and spread it over the stall floor. His arms and legs worked mechanically at something he had done a million times before. As he turned around to fork up another stack, the kid caught sight of his brown leather satchel, overstuffed to the brim. He had purposely left out the Written Cipher this time. Life, he reflected as he stared at his most precious belongings, was going to be a crazy enough journey, and a dangerous one, without hauling around something he loathed so much yet was coveted by so many others. Never seeing it again would be too soon for him.

Besides, they had other worries at the moment. Casey’s motives for planning his own ‘death’ had become somewhat less muddier, but it hadn’t done a lick of good. The last thing his partner wanted for them was to be fugitives within Liam’s bull’s eye.

Yet that’s exactly what had happened.

The story certainly explained why Casey had so carefully devised a plan to unstitch himself from under the skin of that man. It didn’t explain at all why Casey finally found the motivation to do it.

Why now, why ... with me?

The kid figured those questions could be answered when they were far away, lying on their backs under the stars somewhere. Only when Casey had nothing else to stare at but outstretched branches overhead, yawning like open arms, and not a pair of dark eyes would Chuck even begin to ask the question.

Droplets of sweat slid between his shoulder blades as he worked. Stopping to wipe a hand over his brow, Chuck took a generous pull of water from a flask he had the foresight to fill before leaving the house, and turned the pitchfork over to spread the final layer –

An arm snaked around his middle from behind.

“What – Hey!” Chuck’s reaction was part fight, part flight. He tried to swing around with the pitchfork clutched in his hands in a poor imitation of defending himself, even as his feet scrambled towards the back of the stall. The stack nearly tripped him for his troubles.

“Well, fucking hello to you, too, pancake,” Casey said, sounding less than impressed.

Chuck angled his head around and let out a breath. “God! Must you sneak up on me like that? I almost speared you through the liver, you know.”

“Your aim would have to improve by about a magnitude of a thousand, kid, to even come close to any vital body parts.”

“Yeah, well, one of these days I may surprise you.” Chuck gave him a dirty look and relaxed his body, thinking Casey would slacken the hold around his waist and step back.

His boyfriend, however, wasn’t quite reading the signals that way. If anything, at the feeling of Chuck’s lanky frame letting go of the tension, Casey brought his other arm around his thin body, pulling him backwards into the hard and warm place against his chest. “Why don’t you let go of that thing before you hurt yourself?” Casey asked, brushing his lips to the kid’s ear.

Chuck dropped it. Easy enough, since he couldn’t lift his arms. “You need to work on your greetings. Where have you been, anyway?”

“Up on the ridge,” Casey said. One hand slid lower down Chuck’s belly, and the kid couldn’t repress the shiver. Shivering was the one thing he could do, since his upper body was under the provocative suggestion of restraint.

“The ridge – doing what?”

“Someone had to be the welcoming committee for the scouts your father sent.” Casey ducked his head and gave him another light brush of lips, drawing them over the humid skin at Chuck’s neck. “Thought I should be the one to do it.”

“I assume we’re not referring to tea and cookies?” Chuck said. Admittedly, he was still surprised and a bit helpless by Casey’s sudden appearance, but as his hand rubbed over his abdomen, the kid eased into the unplanned compulsion. Every touch made his body draw up in response.

“Like that?” Casey grazed his mouth over the beating pulse.

“Yes. Answer the question.”

Now that was not what he expected. Behind him, he felt Casey bury his nose in the dark curls over his collar, and breathe him in heavily. As if he was trying to stamp Chuck’s scent in his mind. Why? You’re stuck with me now, he wanted to say.

“Cookies don’t pack that much of a punch.”

“You didn’t – Casey, I hope –”

“Nah, but when they wake up next week, they’ll have one hell of a headache.” Sliding his hand lower, over the outside of Chuck’s jeans, Casey let his fingers move into a proprietary touch. They molded around him and pressed.

“Casey ... what’re you doing?”

Casey answered by putting his hips firmly against the kid’s denim-covered ass and let him feel how his cock was already hard and waiting. “Know something, brown eyes?” he murmured, cupping his hand and making Chuck take in a breath. “You’re too damn perfect for me.”

“I think we both know I’m far from perfect.”

“Shut it,” Casey said, long fingers touching him.

“I mean ... now?” Not that Chuck needed another clue of his intention. Especially with his lover’s arousal pressed against his backside. As Casey caressed his balls through the jeans, Chuck strained to ... move or something. Because what was proper about making love in a barn?

“Does this feel like we should wait?” Casey asked, the arm around his waist drawing his entire body flush to his. “So hungry for you ....”

Apparently, his own cock was up to the idea, and his traitorous body let him know by pushing backward. The squirming devolved into a needy rub, his ass against Casey’s erection. When Casey tugged on his shirt sleeve, exposing Chuck’s shoulder to drop a kiss there, the kid knew decorum had left the barn and taken his cousin modesty along for the ride.

“You - really are a bad man, John Casey.”

“Wanna see me be good?” Casey said. He steered Chuck’s head around and sought his mouth, urgent, not waiting. There was a mutter at his own lack of control, but Casey knew as well as him there was no sense in fighting it. Cupping the back of Chuck’s head, he delved deep, giving into urges that began with Chuck’s shy yet willing submission last night.

What Chuck faced at the moment he knew was entirely different. An awareness struck him that he couldn’t explain, but for some reason, there was longing and pain under the sudden surge against his body.

“Need all of you, now.” Wasting no more time, Casey pulled at Chuck’s jeans with a grunt. Trying to balance his need with not hurting him, Casey tightened his grip around Chuck’s waist and swept his legs, taking them both down to the bed of straw. The fresh, grassy layer Chuck had just laid in his bout of energy ended up being fortuitous, cushioning their fall. Even with Chuck’s automatic struggle now that Casey’s weight was on top him, it wasn’t so hard for Casey to get Chuck’s jeans off and end up back on top, Chuck flat on his back.

Struggle? Why in the hell was he doing that? Okay, at first the kid was thrown totally off guard, one by the sneak attack and two by finding himself trapped under a very horny man – who he loved. But already, at the brief stimulation, Chuck’s body had reacted, and the grin on Casey’s face when he pulled back proved he felt it just as strongly.

“Yeah, better,” Casey said, sitting up to pull off his own pants. “That’s the kind of hello I expected from you, little tiger.”

“Can you blame me for being a bit jumpy?” Chuck tried to shift under him in an attempt to get more comfortable, though he only succeeded in getting straw in a place he preferred not to. A nice reminder that he had been relieved of his pants in a horse stall in broad daylight.

As if reading his mind, Casey tossed his own pants to the side and moved to Chuck’s throat, kissed. Spoke low to him, “You won’t be thinking of anything else in a minute. Get your hands out of the way.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize ....” Feeling a bit idiotic, Chuck put his hands on Casey’s shoulders, giving him access to his shirt. Casey unbuttoned it in a heartbeat, caught hold of the sides and yanked it down the kid’s arms. Giving up on being neat or gentle about it, he pulled the whole ball of gangly arms and shirt sleeves over Chuck’s head, pinning down his wrists to the straw. Leaning down to kiss him, Casey swallowed any babble or protests Chuck might try to level at his boyfriend for the somewhat rushed treatment.

As he broke the kiss, he made quick work of his own shirt. “Willing to wait for me, kid?” he asked against Chuck’s chin.

“What? Casey.”

Casey’s mouth moved over the curve of his throat, the whisper of lips sending prickles over Chuck’s skin, making him dig his hands into his back. Not that he cared, but tomorrow there would be tiny scratches from his fingernails. Why not mark him as his? Just the same as Casey had, wasn’t it?

Marking him seemed less important a millisecond later as Casey shifted solidly between his thighs, his stomach pressed against Chuck’s stiff cock. At the friction, Chuck groaned, his wriggling under him lining them up perfectly. Oh, there. That was it.

One of Casey’s knees slid between Chuck’s thighs and bumped them out further apart. A hand reached out to the side to grapple for his pants, and after a moment, Casey pulled the small tin of slick out of his discarded jean’s pocket. Chuck had to think his boyfriend would be carrying that around a lot. Or maybe he should himself, knowing how spontaneous and demanding his lover could and would be.

“Didn’t ... hurt you last night, did I?” Casey asked, the asshole lifting his head to grin at him. “Because I can be easy today, if that’s what you want.”

“No, but thanks for asking,” Chuck said, hating the fact Casey could always get a blush from him.

“Good.” Casey bent over him to lay another kiss on his lips, then the damp curls at his temple. The move pretty much sprawled his lover on top of him, but it didn’t last. Casey lifted up enough to seize both of Chuck’s thighs in back, raising them and making the kid clasp onto Casey’s hips with his long legs.

“Ah. I wasn’t ... oh.” Instincts Chuck didn’t even know he had took over. At least his legs knew what to do.

“Yeah, that’s it, kid.” When Casey felt those limbs reflexively wrap around his body, he had to cock his head and smirk down at Chuck as he slicked up a few fingers. “God, you were made for this, weren’t you, brown eyes?”

“I ... wouldn’t know anything about th –ah.” While Chuck chattered, Casey found his anus with a finger. “Oh – shit,” he rasped. At the next inward press, Chuck writhed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes.”

“No, don’t do that,” Casey said. “Look at me. Wanna see your eyes for this.” He worked himself in an inch or two, without the usual testing and pressing, soft murmurs. Hell, they were both ready. The minute he was at the right angle, and the kid felt his muscles clench, Casey slid his cock in deep. “That’s it, kid,” he whispered. “All belongs to me, doesn’t it? Not going to let go, are you?”

“No ... never ....” The words caught, got thrown back. As Chuck looked up at him with glazed eyes, forgetting about the scratchy straw on his back and nothing but fullness, Casey let go of Chuck’s arms to pull his thighs up to a higher angle, forcing the kid to lock his ankles around Casey’s back as he began to rock. “Fuck ... Casey.”

“Not gonna let you forget. Got that?”

Forget what? Chuck had no idea. Not that he could think. Not when Casey bent over him, making Chuck feel every inch of penetration as they lay nearly eye to eye.

“Oh ... that’s ....” Chuck dropped a hand out to the side, fisted it in the straw. Animals did it in the straw. Just like this. Nothing drawing them but nature’s urges, taking away minds and mucky emotions.

“Promise you won’t hate me,” Casey said on a breath into his hair, fucking him in and out, making Chuck feel the storm of need quivering in every muscle. “No matter what.”

What the hell is he talking about? Chuck’s other hand grasped the meat of Casey’s shoulder, wrapping his legs tighter around him. He buried his face into his lover’s neck as he raised his hips higher. Didn’t Casey know that was his answer?

“Want all of me, don’t you?” Casey whispered it hoarsely, repeating a phrase in Gaelic that meant nothing to his ears, but it sounded musical and emotional and everything Casey wasn’t. “Let go, just like that ....”

“God ... yes.” With a sudden groan and convulsive buck that pressed Casey’s dick almost painfully like a rod of steel into him, Chuck released, spurting the area between their bodies with sticky warmth.

“Yeah, all belongs to me now.” Casey looked down directly at his face, reaming him hard. “Not just that fine ass I’m taking.”

“No. You’re - mine, too, C-Casey.”

“Oh, fuck.” Casey canted his hips a little to the side, giving him a feel of another angle. “Want it, don’t you?”

Chuck pulled him down, writhing under him, awkwardly trying to lift his hips, to take more. Just urging him to willingly release control. The shaking in Casey’s legs exposed the first pulses of orgasm; he was letting go, the very thing Chuck wanted. As Casey thrust hard through it, Chuck’s hands dug into his shoulders, pulling him as close as two bodies could be. “God ... shit. Wanted you ... too.”

Chuck arched his back off the ground, feeling his lover shudder to a halt. Tilting his head back, lifting his hips to meet him, the kid whispered Casey’s name against his lover’s neck, telling him it was okay to need someone that badly.

It took a few minutes, but the tension was slowly easing out of them. Chuck let himself go lax under Casey, not minding the weight of something so sheltering over his body. One hand dropped back to the straw over his head, elbow bent, the other still caressing Casey’s bare shoulder.

Casey bit down on his bottom lip, barely rocking, and only when he heard Chuck groan in a little discomfort did he open his eyes. “Don’t tell me you have something to say about this.”

“I can’t feel my left leg.”

“If you can still feel your right leg,” Casey said, sitting up a little, “I might not be doing my job properly.”

“Oh, no worries,” Chuck replied. “You pretty much screwed the pooch on proper when you grabbed me from behind.” He put a hand on his forehead and rolled his eyes, but subsided with a grin. “Seriously, can I have my legs back? I don’t think people with my build were made to bend like this.”

“Heh. Seems to bend just fine when I do it,” Casey said. He held him back against his body, still embedded in his ass, making Chuck look at up him, only seeing his eyes. Only feeling him. “Just hold still. I want to ... look at you.” Surrounded in a hushed silence, broken only by the clopping of hooves as one of the horses came up to the gate, they stayed like that, bound together just a minute longer, though Chuck had no idea why.

“Is something ... wrong?”

His boyfriend brushed his knuckles over Chuck’s chest, stroked his lower belly. “Christ, you drive me crazy.”

The kid didn’t know if that was a compliment, or even a real answer, but he closed his eyes, enjoying the sensual torment of his lover deep inside of him. It was like slowly unraveling a knot, but Casey wasn’t done torturing him yet. Chuck wasn’t kidding when he said his feet were tingling.

“Can you tell me something?” Chuck asked, and opened his eyes to see Casey still watching him with an unreadable expression. “What the hell got into you?”

“Jesus, you don’t know, do you?” Casey’s fingers trailed along the hollow of his throat, then up to graze his jaw, drawing a finger over his bottom lip.

“Know what?”

“Never realized how breathtaking you are ....” Casey went on to rumble against his ear, “Everything about you is, kid. All along, it was you that got into me ....”

Chuck felt the blush start somewhere in his core. Oh, yeah, had he really taken a good look? “You’re blind.”

The weirdness was gone, just like that. “You’re an idiot,” Casey said, smiling. He rocked into him one more time before he finally let him loose. In front of Chuck’s eyes, the man who had just bared his feelings was replaced by a badass outlaw, and damn, this one had a schedule to keep. “Time’s up kid. Dinner’s ready. Then we need to get the hell out of here.”

-x-

After supper, Casey smothered the fire within the cook stove for the last time. He didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk, which, Chuck figured, wasn’t an anomaly, but this felt unlike his usual isolation Casey fell back on from time to time. Broodier, the kid sensed, though he had no idea why.

Hell, Chuck had his own reasons to brood right now, didn’t he? As he sat on the settee by the fireplace, he rested his head back on the cushion, staring up at the low beams. He hoped whoever lived here next had a liking for over-sized cats, since the place came with one. He also hoped that they didn’t use his prototype for firewood. At least he had the designs safely packed away.

“Here,” Casey said, making Chuck jump. “I make it a rule. Always start off a new journey requesting Saint Christopher to watch over your shoulder.”

“A request that comes with an offering of liquor, I see.”

“Irish Catholic, remember? We barely take a trip to the outhouse without a ritual that involves booze.”

“Hah.” Chuck raised a brow and sniffed at the glass Casey had waved under his nose. “Is that ... whiskey?”

“Go on. Take it. I also make it a rule not to drink alone.”

Chuck squinted at it a few seconds longer but obeyed, letting Casey hand off the glass to him. The first sip, small compared to the shot Casey just took in one gulp, pleasantly burned the back of his throat. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Take another sip,” Casey said. “This isn’t the rotgut usually found out here. Found some good stuff in town.”

Chuck tipped the glass again, swallowed, and twisted it between his fingers. As he looked around the inside of his home, it was beginning to hit him. He’d never be here again.

“Can’t believe we have to go,” he mumbled, glancing up at Casey. His boyfriend stood with his hip resting against the tattered wingchair opposite him, regarding the kid in a way that made him want to squirm. “I can’t think of anything else I might’ve forgotten. Are we ... leaving now?”

“In a few minutes,” Casey said, pushing off to stand straight. On the way over to where Chuck sat, Casey grabbed the chair and pulled it behind him until it was directly in front of the kid. Chuck tried to think of the last time he saw his lover look that uncomfortable. “You and me ... we have some points to cover first.”

“Points? Sounds ominous,” Chuck tried to joke. “Even for you.”

Now that was odd. Casey didn’t even begin to smile. Instead, he watched Chuck like he was a strange species that had dropped from the sky, one of those creatures he read about in the novels his father never approved of.

“Comfortable, boyo? Why don’t you sit back?”

Funny. That reminded Chuck. He’d never sit here again, either. On this comfy settee. He earned it in a barter, fair trade for a job he did for ... who?

Chuck settled back, his brows drawing together. Strange. He never forgot details like that. A woman, older than his mother would’ve been ... that’s all?

“Feeling okay, kid?” Casey asked carefully. He lowered his big frame into the wingchair, put his hands on Chuck’s knees. “Can you look at me?”

“I ... was just thinkin’ of something I forgot.” Chuck shook his head, and the room swam peculiarly like bath water in a tub at the back and forth movement. Wow. He’d have to stop doing that. “I shouldn’t have any more whiskey.”

He started to pass off the glass to Casey, but Casey put his hand out to stop him. “Keep it. Not the whiskey, kid,” he said. “Just sit back and relax. You’re gonna be okay.”

Chuck narrowed his eyes, working to focus on Casey’s ... lips. ‘Cause he’s talkin’. “Why ... would I nottt be okay?”

Casey’s fingers splayed over Chuck’s knees, lightly digging in. “Chloral hydrate,” he replied, and for some reason, he sounded ... regretful. “We only have a few more minutes ... where you’ll be lucid, kid, so I need you to listen up.”

Chuck searched his brain, but apparently, his ears had stopped working. Chloral ... something. He gave Casey a helpless look. “What ... what’re you sayin’?”

“It’s a sedative,” Casey said, one hand lifting to run a thumb over his cheekbone. It was cold. Not the way Casey’s skin was supposed to feel.

“Seda – what?” Comprehension seeped in somehow. When it did, Chuck’s eyes snapped wide. He looked down at the glass in his hands, dropped it to the floor, and dragged his eyes up to Casey’s enigmatic expression. “You ... you put a drug in the whis-key!?”

“It wasn’t the whiskey, kid. It was in your dinner.” Casey tipped his head towards the table. “You already ingested it, so there was no sense wasting the hooch.”

“Why – why would you do that?” His own voice cut through his brain. That was him? It sounded like a squeaky hinge, Chuck realized with a wince, like it was coming from somewhere else in the room.

“Because I thought the booze would help you simmer down,” Casey said, “but I should’ve known better.”

“Oh, my God, this ... isn’t happening.” Chuck blinked over at Casey’s face, and seeing the lamplight behind him blur around his head, the kid rubbed his eyes. “On what planet ... is it okay to drug someone? Venus? No, Mars.”

“Looks like we have less time than I thought.” Casey shifted in the chair and leaned in closer, forcing the kid to stop babbling and connect with his eyes. “I need you to focus, pancake. I have to go back and finish up some business,” he said evenly, “and this is the only way to do it.”

“I don’t ... get it.”

Catching his wrist, Casey squeezed lightly and linked the fingers of one hand with his. “You’d either insist I don’t go, or vow to come with me, and neither of those options is possible.”

“Please ... tell me this isn’t about Liam.” What the hell? Chuck’s head was so heavy, too heavy for his shoulders. He began to drop his chin into his chest, but there was a hand under his jaw. Cupping, tender, bringing his eyes back up. Chuck’s lashes fluttered, refocused.

“Stay with me, brown eyes,” Casey said. “Just a minute longer.”

“N-not back there, John.”

“He won’t stop looking. You know that after everything I told you. Hell, kid, you saw the heartless bastard first hand.”

“I can’t ... can’t let you do that,” Chuck argued. He felt the weight of Casey’s other hand on his leg, holding him. Really, who couldn’t stop him? He could barely talk.

“Proves it,” Casey said, and a humorless smile crossed his face. “Knew you’d kick up your feet at the idea, but it has to be this way. When I’m done with Black Rock, there won’t be a way for Liam to come back for us.”

“What ... if you don’t come b-back?”

“I will.” Letting go of Chuck’s jaw, Casey reached inside his coat with his free hand and drew out a letter. “When you wake up, you’ll find this letter in your pocket.”

At first, all Chuck could do was make a little whuffling noise to voice his objection. He had no idea what was going on. His mind was simply blinking off, taking him out of existence. “’M gonna wake up? Where?”

“Far from here, kid.”

“What?”

“It’ll explain what you’re to do ... where you’ll go to be safe. I told you when we were up at the lodge,” and Casey paused to touch his temple, examining his head as if he were trying to peel back and see the gears at work, “but I suspect you have no idea what I’m talking about right now, so read the letter.”

“No letter, Case,” Chuck croaked, and he swatted at the envelope. Sensations trickled out of him. His vision did one dangerous windmill around and settled firmly so that the sofa was upside down. Had to be on top of him. Why else was his breath leaving his lungs? “You’re not going.”

“Keep proving to me I made the right decision, don’t you?” Refusing to let him touch the letter, Casey had already stuffed it back in his coat for temporary safekeeping. “One more thing, kid.”

Something touched him. Maybe he was still sitting, Casey in front of him. How else could his boyfriend – giant shit head asshole jerk – touch him? But he cradled his jawbone and made Chuck look up at him. The touch was cool, soothing, but not as comforting as the deep rumble that twisted a place in his chest.

“N’ gonna forgive you,” Chuck mumbled as his mouth was beginning to forget how to work.

The blurry man in front of him looked down, swallowed. “You’ll have my pocket watch,” he said. A shimmer of light danced in front of Chuck’s eyes, sparks of gold. His lashes fell, couldn’t look at that now. “I’ve been ... wanting to give it to you all along. You’ll wear it – keep it safe, won’t you?”

“You ... can’t.” All he had to do was open his eyes, plead with him. He could stop him that way. It always worked. But he never did like bucking broncos. Why did Casey put him on one? “I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. Go where I tell you to go. I’ll find you.”

Where was he going?

That must’ve come out as a question, because a voice capable of stirring something in his belly answered.

“Somewhere safe. I have no right to make more promises, mo ghra, but this is one. You can consider it my oath to find you again. I’ll come to collect what’s mine.”

There were strong fingers dragging through his hair, breath on his cheek ... warm, soft lips pressing to his. Something wet. His world sunk and pitched. There were words bleeding and stifled against his ear

and they were all lies.

No man could love someone, as Casey seemed to be saying, and do this to another.

-x- End Chapter Twenty-Four Sins Fell Angels-x-


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Five

-x-

The cruel, scheming granddaddy of all headaches pulled him out of the dust and smacked him around. It cracked into his temples like a stampede of shaggy buffalo, pounding against the sides of his head and rattling in his skull. It was made a thousand times worse by the sunlight digging under his eyelids, making him want to either throw up his dinner – when did he last eat? – or curl up in a fetal position and wait for the earth to stop rocking.

Chuck’s head lolled to one side, twitched back straight. He cracked one eye open and did the only thing he felt capable of doing. He groaned.

Everything hurt.

No one took pity on him. He tried not to take it personally, and instead did something useful like dragging his tongue over his teeth to remove the layer of fur. Some part of his mind registered the wool scratching at his chin. It took a minute to identify the culprit of his discomfort. It was his one good suit, the grey one he wore the day he fled Boston.

Where the hell am I?

Didn’t I throw this suit away?

Chuck cranked his neck against the cushioned seat and avoided the glare of the window. Up ahead he heard a low conversation and a laugh, pierced by the bellow of the steamer engine. Churning with all the noises was a clickety-clack, clickety-clack, lulling and rhythmic underneath him. He was on a train ... going God knows where.

“There’s a good lad,” an unfamiliar voice said. “He said you’d awaken by the time we crossed through to Blackwell. Here, laddie.”

The tiny slit of his eyes where Chuck could stand to have light pass through gave him a vague impression of a pudgy hand holding a flask. “Not ... whiskey, I hope?”

“No, just water. He’d said you’d be thirsty when you wake up. Drink this.”

“Who – who said that?” Chuck asked, automatically taking the flask. His mouth tasted like dead things had been left in there to rot, and he hoped to at least wash that sensation away. After he took a sip, the kid tried to straighten in his seat. A pain shot through his neck. How long had he been sitting with his head twisted around?

“Mr. Gould, of course.” The man made a tsk noise and flashed a smile of white teeth, showing the contrast with coffee-colored skin. “Your employer?”

“Mr. who now?”

At Chuck’s blank look, the stranger shook his head. “The boss man said to tell you straightaway he left your letter of commendation in your jacket. Wanted to make sure you wasted no time before you read it.” The man patted his shoulder. “Your daddy will be right proud of you, son.”

“I’m, uh, sure he will be.” Chuck rested the back of his head against the window and finally noticed the man was wearing a stark navy blue porter’s uniform. More importantly, looked sympathetic to his plight. “What did he look like ... exactly?”

“Lawd have mercy. Mm.” The porter drew back and looked at him. “Big Bulldozer was right. Said you had too much Old Tom in your system.”

“Old Tom?” Chuck repeated weakly. “Wait. So ... the man who brought me here. He was big?”

“Was it the gin, button, or the whiskey that did ya in? Out mafficking late into the night?”

“Been on the receiving end of that yourself?”

The porter laughed. Though the noise was like a pick to his head, Chuck found himself hating the apple-shaped man a little less. “Aye-aye, boss. Doesn’t matter now, does it?” He clapped him on the shoulder. Chuck winced as the movement clanged through his headache. “Buck up. Looking like the barber’s cat, you are, but we’ll make you dapper before we get to St. Louis.”

“St. Louis? The city?”

“You may need to take another drink, young hoss.” He laughed again. “We’ll bring you back to the livin’. No trouble at all.”

-x-

“Stop looking at me like that,” Casey said, shoveling his fork into the tin of cold beans. “Don’t you have something else to do?”

Vic didn’t so much as wink that one smooth brown eye she had pinned on him.

“Then just shut up.”

Damn if he was going to let an ornery beast, even one as exceptional as Vic, give him the side eye on the shittiest morning of his life. She could do it, too. All sharp and knowing. It wasn’t just his imagination. The highfaluting horse had an eerie sorcerer’s sense, especially when it came to her master.

And at the moment, she was giving him the ‘What are we doing out here, dumb ass?’ look. Amazing how Vic had a plentiful supply of those the one time Casey wasn’t asking for so much as a snort out of her.

The raindrops that pooled in the brim of his hat now overflowed and dripped down into the beans. Casey tipped the tin to dump out as much water as he could, but it was a losing battle. He might as well just stir it in and eat faster. There was no sense in even attempting to find a dry overhang or cave and make a campfire. It was the kind of rainstorm that was going to shed water like a gully-washer all day. Casey could feel that bone deep.

The errant thought wasn’t enough to distract him from the fact he had miles to cover, danger increased with every minute that passed, and there was a meeting he had to get to with a man who didn’t even know it yet. Getting a little wet, or a lot, was the least of his worries now.

Leaving that kid at the train station weighed heavier on him with every footfall on the muddy, godawful trail.

Dumb kid. It was best to think of him that way and just leave it at that for now. Anything else would just eat away at his chest. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t had his choices leave holes there before.

Damn horse was still watching him.

Casey swung his head around and nodded down the slope at the creek. “Get on with you,” he said. “Drink. We’re only resting here for a few minutes, so you best be sweeping off those cantankerous looks and fill that big gullet while you can, damn she devil.”

Well, out of all that, Vic picked up on the ‘Move your ass’ tone. After giving him a tail flick or two, she plodded to the edge of the water, her hooves sinking in deep and making a ruckus of a sucking sound on the way out.

“That’s right,” Casey muttered. “You like to forget who’s in charge.” Hunched over, he polished off the rest of the beans while she drank. Without his pocket watch, he had to gauge the time by daylight, not that there was much of it to speak of. Two hours ago, the black, drenched, sopping mess of a night became a drizzling grey morning. There was no way in hell he should’ve stopped, but Vic had pointed her snout at a patch of grass, and it reminded him that last night’s dinner seemed like days ago.

If his measurements were precise, and God help him, he calculated the kid’s weight and amount of chloral hydrate as exact as he could, Chuck would be joining the living again right about now. Hell of a headache and maybe vision spinning for a while, but there was no fixing that. The decision was lamentable but necessary, though the younger man wouldn’t see it that way at all.

It wasn’t the kid’s physical condition after getting sedated that made the beans sit in his belly like lead. Right now, he’d take a kick there rather than hear the choice of words Chuck would have for him when they caught up in St. Louis. ‘I hate you,’ was a phrase he’d spew. ‘Why didn’t you talk to me?’ was another.

When Casey ran a hand over his forehead and eyes, it came back just as dripping. God, he sure as hell should come up with some better answers by then.

Obviously, it wasn’t the mechanics of the procedure yesterday evening that was the challenge. Christ, if anything, Chuck made it too easy.

(To be honest, Casey should have a sit-down with that kid at some point to address his gullibility.

Then again, it may come around and snake-bite him in the ass.)

Just as he thought, the true challenge, and one that left him with the same feeling as a knife between his ribs, was Chuck himself.

Every time Casey closed his eyes, he saw him. Nobody should have a look like the kid has when he’s been hurt, holding enough misery in those brown eyes to break a man’s heart. Like all the suffering a body can hold, where all had been well and forgiven, now accused him of his new sins.

Casey gritted his teeth and tossed the empty tin in the nearby brush. That’s why he had to put that bullshit aside and focus on getting the kid on a train to safety. It had taken no coaxing to get Chuck to eat everything on his plate, and after that it was only a matter of minutes before he could see the effects begin to take hold. Began to hate himself right there, too.

It was a balancing act. Chuck had to be lucid enough to hear him and understand what Casey had to say, yet weak enough to be powerless to do a damn thing about it.

As it turned out, fifteen minutes was all he had. Casey could still see it clearly. Chuck struggling to stay awake, blinking up at the ceiling and rubbing his eyes. He must’ve chocked it up to exhaustion, and God knows the kid had a right to it. But when Casey sat down in front of him, putting his hands on his knees, he still didn’t get it. Not until Casey started talking in a low steady voice, trying to soothe what he could.

Knew it wouldn’t do a lick of good.

After the deed was done, there were just too many details to sort through to get bogged down in worthless emotions. His ‘Just get the damn job done’ instincts kicked in. Just as well.

Guess it was dumb luck, then, that Casey had found himself a boyfriend as skinny as a post, barely a passable amount of meat on his bones for a man that height. Which came in handy at times like this. Making him portable and all.

Since Casey had already scrounged through most of the kid’s belongings on his first stop there – a refugee could never be too careful - it was easy enough to get his hands on Chuck’s city boy clothes he had squirreled away. The maneuvering was uncoordinated as all hell, considering his boyfriend’s gangly arms and legs, to get him changed out of his farm clothes and into his temporary identity, but Casey managed to get him presentable.

“Come on, Vic,” Casey said, the rain nearly drowning out his voice. “Time to get moving, gal.”

He should go easier on her. No other horse could keep up the pace he was going to ask of her, and it started with the visit into town yesterday. When he left the moron’s mercantile, Casey had made one final stop in that Podunk town, and that was to check the train schedule. It told him the Atchison and Topeka line through Blackwell and ultimately to St. Louis would be making her stop at half past eight that evening. Above all, he was determined to get Chuck on that train. As far away from Liam and his father as possible.

Constructing the story was easy enough. He had spent years perfecting that shtick. Once he arrived at the train platform, propping a sorry-ass, sloshed kid on one of the benches lining the station, Casey quietly appraised the people milling about until he found the kind of man he was looking for. A porter who seemed to be the unofficial boss of the other men in uniforms, a large bear of a man with a genuine smile and trustworthiness in his eyes.

“A word with you, sir?” Casey rested a gentle hand on the man’s navy blue wool coat and steered him off to the side. “The young man... over there. On the bench? Yes, that one. No, no, I assure you, he’s fine. Who is he? Well ... you look like a man who can keep information under wraps. I suppose I can divulge that much.”

The rest just came naturally. By the time he unraveled Chuck’s fabricated tale of woe like it was nothing, Casey could almost believe it himself.

Wealthy, college-educated boy being groomed by his father to take over the helm of his railroad machinery business. The old man decided his son needed exposure to the grittier side of the industry for a season. That’s where Mr. Gould stepped in. Trusted advisor to his father and Director of Operations for Regional Expansion.

“Yes, the young man spent several months working under me. Learning the ropes.” Casey had to bite down on his lip briefly at that point. “Chuck – yes, that’s his given name – is returning east. He’ll meet his father in St. Louis. The young man’s father is rather domineering and strict, and we thought ....” Being the fine gentleman that he was, Casey politely cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “The young man needed one night to ... kick up his heels ... sow his oats a little before going back to work in his family’s enterprises.”

Casey then arched a brow. Catch my drift?

The porter, whose brass badge said Ernest Jackson, nodded and winked at Casey. “Every young man needs to stretch his legs from time to time, sir.”

“Will you be able to see after Mr. Morgan until he reaches St. Louis?” Casey’s look shifted to a smile, and the small purse holding fifty dollars in gold he tendered didn’t hurt, either. “He can pay you the remainder on arrival.”

“Re-remainder? Yes, sir.” The Porter’s white teeth flashed against his dark skin, and his eyes traveled from Casey to the unmoving lump on the bench. “We’ll make sure the young sir has what he needs. Thank you, sir.”

Casey tipped his bowler hat and smiled again as he handed off Chuck’s scuffed leather satchel. “There will be a letter of commendation for him to give to his father. In his coat. You’ll be kind enough to let him know?”

“You can count on me, sir,” Ernest said, slanting an assessing look at the slumped figure he had just agreed to babysit. “The young man appears that ... he’ll need something to cheer him when he wakes up.”

Just don’t offer up booze or women, Casey had to stop himself from quipping. The kid doesn’t really know how to handle either.

On the other hand, Ernest had no clue how close to the truth he was.

“I’ll bring him along in a minute,” Casey said, “if you don’t mind carrying the bag to his seat. Here’s the ticket.”

Casey handed the porter the ticket he had purchased that morning and kept his eyes on the man until he boarded the burgundy coach car. The arched windows in a row along each side gave him a perfect view of the interior, lit up against the night. Passels of passengers were trying to get settled, trunks were loaded, and in the midst of it all porters and maids were going about their jobs. The Red Fern car, the gold script on the side proclaimed. Not overly fancy, but it had a sleeping berth, and that’s all the kid needed tonight.

It was idiotic to think he could make a scene by saying a proper good-bye. For one, Chuck was drooling pretty heavily out the side of his mouth and would have no recollection of their parting. And two, the strangers milling about might not take kindly to witnessing one man giving a lip lock to another on a train platform. Not that he usually gave a flying fuck what anyone thought, but tonight he had to be the honorable Mr. Gould. Couldn’t be the one who felt as if he had an open chest wound dripping down the inside of his shirt. Just by looking at what he had to leave behind.

Casey swept his eyes quickly over the platform, and deciding no one was outwardly staring at them, he knelt in front of Chuck. The kid’s lashes didn’t even stir, no matter how badly Casey wanted to look into those bottomless dark eyes right now. Frowning, he bought a second by using his handkerchief to wipe the side of his mouth, and then tucked it into the kid’s pocket for him to find it later.

“Damn you, brown eyes.” Casey pushed the heel of one hand up against his eye socket and blinked. Goddamn wind hitting him in the face, or just the cold night air. “I’m not saying good-bye. Not doing it again.”

Seven days, he wanted to whisper in his ear reassuringly. He’d meet him there in the city, take him to the faraway safe places they dreamed about.

“Sir, are you ready to help me load up the young man?” Ernest asked from behind. “Have his seat all prepared, I do. He’ll be in good hands.”

As passengers walked by, there were some long looks of disapproval at Chuck, fortified by the fact Casey pretended to raise a glass to his mouth and then rolled his eyes as a signal of his pastime this evening. Between the two of them, they got Chuck settled in his seat, and as if fate knew how to stab another hole in him, the sound of the steam whistle told Casey he had get off.

Gazing down at that moppy head of hair attached to the man he loved, Casey let out a breath and ran a thumb over the kid’s cheek. With all the eyes on him, that simple touch had to suffice for good-bye.

-x-

Chuck propped his elbow on the window ledge and stared out at the miles of grassy meadows, a hundred thoughts darting through his brain. There was nothing much to see, but watching himself get pulled further away seemed to be the only thing he could control. The monotony of the western Kansas landscape was occasionally broken up by a glimpse of a herd of cattle or a stop at yet another nondescript town that had sprung up along the rail line. The towns did have names, but he gave up on paying attention to them six whistle-stops ago.

There were bigger issues at the moment. Like what kind of a farm implement he would use to stab his mule-headed boyfriend for this stunt. A rusty pitchfork?

Well, okay. If he were prone to violence.

The bulky Pullman porter who had taken him under his wing - he said to call him Ernest - had delivered the message he obviously was directed to do. “Wanted to make sure you wasted no time before you read it,” he had said.

Now it was up to Chuck to peel the letter open and find out if there were any words in existence that could explain away his circumstances. Casey would try, anyway. Good luck with that, partner.

Another thirty minutes of staring out the window slogged by. He should look at the letter. It was in an envelope that sat like a stone weight in the inside pocket of his city coat, crinkling nicely between the satchel on his lap and chest.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Morgan?”

It took Chuck a few seconds before it hit him that Ernest was speaking to him, and that he was Mr. Morgan. “No ... no, thank you.” Chuck gave him a pained smile. “The dining car’s nice. I had ... right. It was good.” I can’t even remember what I had for supper. “How long will it take to get to St. Louis?”

The porter’s face lit up. “Only two and a half days,” he said. “Imagine that. Going through nearly three whole states as quick as you can. Whoever dreamed of such a thing?”

“I ... well, I think that someday flying machines will let us travel almost anywhere in nothing flat. Maybe we could cross the country in one day ... you know, when we break the code on the power to weight ratio conundrum, or the increase in -”

Ernest started to laugh until he saw Chuck was serious. “You sure you’re feeling all right, young man?” His eyes darted to Chuck’s forehead. “Certain I can’t get you something? Ah, how about this? I hear they have a fine tea, all the way from India. Darjeeling, they call it. That might fix what ails you, Mr. Morgan.”

“I may walk back there later to get a cup, but thank you.” Chuck wanted to cringe at the look Ernest gave him. Great, now his only friend on the train thought he was crazy. “Oh, and you can call me Chuck.” He extended his hand.

“Very good, Mr. Chuck.” Ernest shook it and left him alone.

Why in the world had Casey chosen the surname Morgan for him? To rub it in that he’d never see his friend again? Talk about a mean streak. He should’ve seen that a mile away.

Chuck forcibly stopped his fingers from playing with the pocket watch and attempted to stretch his legs out under the seat in front of him. The gold and red upholstered bench seats faced each other two by two, and on occasion a passenger slid into the one opposite him to strike up a conversation, but that never lasted too long. Eventually, the man or woman would tire of trying to make small talk with a sullen young man and instead made an excuse to visit the dining car.

No wonder they stayed clear of him. Chuck could usually fumble his way through awkward social situations, but there were too many inner demons to wrestle with today.

The letter was getting heavier. He focused on a conversation behind him for about an hour to take his mind off of it, something about the cost of land in California. It was so ... boring. Empty.

His knee began to jiggle at the thought of the note in his jacket. Rather than reach for it, Chuck slapped his hand over his leg to get it to stop fidgeting on its own. A few people shot questioning looks over at him.

“Sorry, first time on a train.” Chuck nodded his apology and quickly turned in his seat so that he didn’t have to see the stares at the weird kid who had to be carried onto the train car.

Being left on a train was a much better parting gift than the stupid letter in his pocket.

Except every voice in his brain told him he should open it.

“Okay, Casey, you win,” Chuck muttered towards the window at last. “This is it.” He slid a hand into his jacket to pull out the letter that had been placed there the night before. The envelope was already starting to wear and wrinkle, as he’d unconsciously been reaching under his coat to thread it between his fingers all morning. Thankfully, he hadn’t dropped it while he stood in the wind-whipped vestibule between the train cars, though he might’ve been tempted to toss it into the gust somewhere between Blackwell and Lakin.

Just in case he changed his mind about the rusty pitchfork.

Chuck stared at it a minute longer before he checked over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching him. Flipping the envelope over, he ran his thumb under the seal and pulled out the single sheet of paper. “What a surprise. One solitary page of information,” Chuck whispered and rolled his eyes. “Not that I expected a novel from the Man of Many Grunts.”

As Chuck unfolded the paper, his eyes landed on the first line.

‘Good. You didn’t tear up the letter.’

Chuck deliberately made a sour face. “I still can,” he mumbled, but now that he had it in his hand, he went back to reading.

‘You want to kill me. Well, stand in line. But if you can get over that, kid, and listen for once, I hope you come to understand why I had to do what I did.’

Chuck didn’t have a good answer for that, so he shrugged.

‘By the time you read this, I suspect you’ll be in western Kansas, and I’ll be on the trail north of Rocky Ford.’

Chuck’s brows drew down at the name. They had passed through that spot on the way back to the farm. “Black Rock. You’re going back,” he said under his breath, hissing. “You big idiot.”

‘I’m not explaining it now. The only reason you need to know is that I have unfinished business, and this time, it’s getting done. I should’ve taken care of it years ago, but never had a reason to leave until now.’

Chuck tightened his fingers on the sheet of paper, only because he noticed it had begun to shake just slightly as the meaning of Casey’s words sunk in. How could he feel any exhilaration in reading that he was the reason, knowing that his partner was walking into a deadly snake pit? What else could ‘unfinished business’ mean but to kill Liam?

The kid’s eyes shifted towards the window. Didn’t one of the men behind him say that Cimarron was the next stop? He wondered if he could hop a coach back to La Junta. How long would that take?

Sighing at the thought, Chuck rubbed a hand over his forehead and read on.

‘And if you even think of getting off that train and coming after me, I will kick my boot so far up your ass that you’ll have shoe leather and the dung I stepped on as an aftertaste in your throat for a month. Got that?’

Even over the sound of the engine churning, Chuck swore he heard one of Casey’s more ominous growls. Holy shit. How can he be that scary that far away?

‘You have one job, kid, so don’t screw it up. That job is to get yourself to Sagebrush Ranch the second you step off the train in St. Louis and stay there until I show up.’

The word ‘ranch’ being the operative yet not-so-truthful term under these circumstances, Chuck remembered a bit miserably. There was a whole other kind of poking going on there besides cow-poking, Casey had explained to him, trying to brush it under the carpet like it was nothing. Well, face facts. Hard to hand-wave that one, big guy.

Only because Sagebrush Ranch was a house of ill repute, and where else would John Casey choose to stash his boyfriend for a few days? Just the thought of it made Chuck’s cheeks flame, so he had no idea how he would actually be able to stay in a place like that for any length of time without combusting.

‘Since you’re the genius here, I’m hoping you remember the instructions we discussed the day you worked at Silver Plume mine.’

“Of course I do,” Chuck murmured, shaking his head at Casey’s perfectly formed handwriting. “I’m not an idiot.” The thought of being forced to help Liam by repairing the steam engine in the boiler room still grated on him.

‘Well, Harvard, here they are again, and a few other details you need to pay a mind to. When you look in the satchel, you’ll find another set of clothes. Go into the men’s lounge and change into them as soon as you arrive at the St. Louis station. Get rid of your city boy clothes. Leave them in the trash if you have to. After that, go down the street to the east. There’s a saloon called the –’

“Prairie Dew.” Chuck whispered the name under his breath before he read it. The conversation with Casey that day became crisper the further he dove into the letter. “The saloon.”

‘You’re to go to the bartender and ask him for directions. He’ll tweak your nose a little, princess, but he’ll tell you what you need to know. Follow the directions to a T. When you get to the ranch on the outskirts of town, don’t walk through the front door – unless you want more attention from a passel of painted cats than you would know what to do with, brown eyes.’

Chuck looked out the corner of his eye and frowned. “Why do I get the feeling you were laughing when you wrote that?” Now he remembered how much he hated this part of the plan. What’s more humiliating than asking a stranger for directions to a brothel?

‘Go through the side gate to the garden, and take the path around to the back door.’

His frown deepened. And do what exactly? ‘Hey, Honey, I’m home?’ He prayed Casey had a better plan than that.

‘There’s a letter for Sabine in the satchel. Think of it as your official letter of introduction, city boy. It explains who you are and why you’re there. Sabine will know what to do. Let’s just say she has experience in hiding those that don’t want to be found. And she owes me a few favors, if you recall.’

Vaguely, he did. Something about another brothel owner in town, a big shot with scary men to back him up, who tried to persuade Sabine to sell him her business. Chuck wasn’t sure what Casey told the man when he arranged for a meeting – Casey was rather nebulous with the details – but the man had backed off after their little tête-à-tête. He was sure it involved guns and other things he’d rather not think of.

‘There are a few other things in the satchel you should know about. The Derringer I showed you. Don’t even think of losing it. You’ll also find those leather books with your schematics and designs you love so much.’

Chuck could almost see Casey’s eye roll at that point, but he breathed a sigh of relief.

‘There’s a pouch at the very bottom, tucked between the clothes. Try not to lose it, either. Eighty thousand dollars is not easy to come by.’

“Eight – oh my God -” Chuck said a little too loud. A couple of passengers turned to give him a cold look. A mother covered her child’s ears and got up to change seats. “Sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean to, um, it was just ....”

He trailed off with an unrefined cough and swiveled around to face the window. Eighty thousand dollars? Was he insane! Where would he ..?

The side trip he made when they left the lodge? The bank. God knows how many other side trips before that. All the while, robbing Liam blind before the man could catch up to his finances, and by then Casey would’ve disappeared in the bottom of a river.

Chuck felt around in the bag. Sure enough, there was a pouch stuffed between a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt. It was thick and crinkling. He didn’t bother opening it up.

When Casey said he had left him the first time, there at the farm, to prepare a life together, his boyfriend wasn’t kidding. What he had failed to mention is that they would be living together like royal princes, as it were.

Chuck let his eyes drift over the green expanse of meadow for a minute. Okay, the money was nice, no doubt, and it did assuage some worries. But it didn’t lighten his fears at all. How could he be comforted by money when his partner was going head first into danger?

‘I should warn you, there’s something else you’ll find in satchel.’

Because Casey never gave a warning without following it up, immediately Chuck felt prickles of sweat along his neck.

‘When I saw the lengths your father would go to in order to recover the damn thing you call the Written Cipher, I couldn’t just leave it. That’s why I forced you to show me where it was stashed.’

Chuck bit his tongue over a swear that almost spilled aloud. You utter bastard. You wanted to skin me for stealing it in the first place, and now you think we should take that chance? Just waltz off with it?

‘I know it’ll vex you, kid, and I suppose you have every right. But I just can’t leave a card like that lying on the table, not when I might have to play it someday in order to bargain for your future.’

Chuck glowered at the writing, considering the argument before he looked out over the miles of prairie. Though at the moment it was a mountain-sized pill to swallow, maybe taking the Cipher was shrewd. It was Casey’s maneuverings that got Chuck out of Black Rock in the first place, after all. He’d have to trust his boyfriend on this.

“Next stop, Ellingwood,” Ernest announced, strolling down the aisle. “Taking on water and supplies, folks. Some of you may want to get off and stretch now.”

The kid took that as his signal to finish the letter before passengers got up from their seats, so he lowered it and quickly read the last few lines.

‘One last thing. Ernest is expecting a healthy final payment for taking care of the son of the cousin of J.P. Morgan. You’re rich now, so one hundred should cover it.’

Chuck fought off a smile. That explained the name, at least.

‘Brown eyes,’ Casey had written at the very end, ‘you have two days on the train, a few more than that at Sabine’s. Can you wait that long for us to start a life together?’

Chuck glanced once more towards the letter and folded it before he settled back in the seat. Five days, a week. It didn’t seem like so much time anymore. Not after he had waited twenty-seven years to find someone.

If Casey came back alive.

And now was really not the time to think about that. His head was already hurting. Chuck rubbed his hands up and down one side of his face, very, very tired. For once, he’d have to listen to Casey’s instructions. Without putting his own spin on things.

–x-

Casey tuned out his thoughts, losing himself to the rhythm of Vic’s hooves plodding against the earth, the burbling of a creek that ran over rocks alongside the trail.

He didn’t want to think about taking this very path less than a week ago. He couldn’t think about the man who had fled with him. Besides, Chuck had slowed him down with the debate and hand-wringing on whether to go back to the farm. Made use of those big dark eyes, and Jesus, he fell for it.

Look where it got them.

The return trek to Black Rock was uncomplicated and quieter, despite the wretched buckets of rain he had to endure on the first day and a half on the muddy trail.

Still, given his druthers, Casey would give his favorite Colt and anything else that shot bullets to have that argumentative, stubborn kid at his side. Having a hard, lean body to keep his bedroll warm at night didn’t hurt either.

Something startled him out of his trance. Casey peered down the trail at a blind bend and moved his hand to the grip of his gun. He listened. A minute later, when they only flushed out a pheasant, he chided himself for being too jumpy. The next time it happened – two jackrabbits - Vic’s ears barely pricked up, and Casey relaxed his fingers a bit.

His mind got busy again.

It had been two days since he’d loaded Chuck onto the train. He tried not to think about it, but by his estimation, the kid should be getting off in St. Louis within the next few hours. Casey could picture him, standing a head taller than most of the crowd on the platform yet trying to melt into the throng. Brown eyes darting around, his long-legged amble a little more awkward than usual as he tried to get his bearings ....

Dumb ass. This is helping. Wanna pull your head out anytime soon?

Casey rolled his eyes, pulled back on the reins, and left Vic in a stand of trees where the ridge dipped for a few hundred yards, making a natural bowl. She was smart, but not quite smart enough to know ‘Keep your big head down,’ though he was certain he could teach her that as well. Since Black Rock was on other side of the outcrop ahead, Casey would rather not announce their arrival by someone spotting his horse on the ridge.

“Sorry I’m late to the party,” Casey grumbled as he began to climb the bedrock. “Miss me?”

He knew this place well. Past the dip in the trail, the rock swept upward, leading to a flat surface at the peak. It made a decent place to observe the sprawling ranch in the basin below, about a quarter of a mile away. When he lifted his head over the top of the cropping to get a better view, Casey froze on instinct. “Ah, dammit.”

He wasn’t alone. A Redstripe snake, coiled and sunning itself in the final evening light, sat on a natural shelf of rock a few feet away.

“Fucking fantastic.” Casey ran his hand over the back of his neck and cursed a little more.

God, he could handle anything. Except snakes. Slithering, slimy little bastards. Normally, he’d take his gun out and shoot it off the ledge but the point was getting in some recognizance, not to blast his way in.

“Get out of here,” Casey said, feeling like a fool by waving at it. “Move along.”

Evidently, snakes were stupid as buffalo shit because they didn’t know the meaning of move it. Casey yanked his Bowie knife out of his holster, braced himself, and bumped it with the tip. “Git!” he ordered, gritting it out between his teeth. “Find your own spot, damn you!”

It took a half dozen tries before the snake got the hint that this was his rock. Unwinding, loop by loop, so that Casey could cringe at its creepy movement, it eventually slithered off the cropping and left him in peace.

Casey took a deep breath, reminded himself that he was on a rock surveying Liam’s home base, and it would be best not to make enough noise to bring his army of hoot owls down on him. Taking off his hat, he slowly poked his head up and scanned the landscape - the scattering of buildings, the barn, a pond, and finally the large main house. Evening shadows made the outbuildings appear as long, tall blemishes against the meadow. Not that he expected Black Rock to change, but it hadn’t.

Remembering the night they left, his stomach tied itself into a series of rather intricate knots. He would’ve never had a reason to see this place again. If the plan had worked. If those two pieces of human waste hadn’t threatened take turns with the kid when they had him alone on the trail.

Now he was staring down at it, and there was nothing to satisfy him about being there to finish stage one of the plan. Ever since he left the train station, Casey had felt nothing but gut-hollow and empty.

All that kid’s damn fault.

Big love-struck pussy, a mocking voice answered.

Casey shook his head and narrowed his eyes at the peaked-roof mansion surrounded by the rolling hills. Anyone else would’ve chosen a location less exposed to build his personal fortress, but Casey always thought of it as Liam’s personal ‘Fuck You, I dare you to try.’

His first priority was digging up the money he had to leave there the night they fled. Eighty thousand, the amount he had managed to grab in the five minutes he had before getting Chuck out of there, was nice enough. Sure, it could keep a man like him – two men – in gilded clover for a life time, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was to take all of it. Break Liam where he was most vulnerable, like the soft underbelly of the same snake who sat here next to him a few minutes ago. Every last dime of it that Casey had so judiciously collected since leaving Chuck the first time. And a pot of it was there, buried under the craggy Gambrel oak tree beyond the bunk house and barn. A metal box held almost half a million dollars in gold coins, silver, and stacks of bank notes. Another three hundred grand was in his bedroom – former bedroom, he reminded himself - behind the false back of his burled maple dresser, top corner on the left.

The gratification came not from having the money, though he expected he and the kid would have a grand time trying, but rather from taking the one thing Liam revered above all.

He’d be sure to remind Liam of that that when he arrived at the second stop of the journey. Canon City at the Grand Union Hotel. Jesus, could his boss pick a more ostentatious joint? Casey could recall seeing it from the outside, a mishmash of pillars and fancy porches, something any misplaced Yankee would love since it would remind them of back East. Just the kind of lodging Liam would chose to impress the kid’s father.

It was the one thing that stopped him from being able to finish the job tonight. This very evening, Liam was holed up at the Grand Union, waiting for Mr. Adams to arrive so that he could close the deal. Of course, the deal was never going to happen.

“If Rudy weren’t a turd with legs and rotten breath,” Casey said to himself, “I would’ve thanked him for his contribution. Kind of the little fucker to provide that bit of information.”

Casey crouched and looked down, just to ensure the snake hadn’t slithered back to join him. When he saw only that judgmental bitch of a horse watching him from the stand of trees, he pushed himself back down to the ground.

His digging expedition would have to wait for nightfall, so he focused on his surroundings – an uncomfortable stump he could sit on, a sliver of a creek tumbling between rocks, the growing song of crickets – and settled in until darkness.

-x-

The only sound louder than the saloon doors slapping shut was the cackling laughter that followed Chuck as stepped out of the Prairie Dew. Everything in him wanted to flee in twelve different directions, but the clothes he had changed into were supposed to give the illusion of hardened cowboy. Running away screaming might just raise a brow or two.

On the bright side, and by that he meant the only darn thing that could be seen as the tiniest silver lining in a massive black cloud, was that his hunch had proved correct. There really was nothing more humiliating than walking into a saloon and asking a stranger to direct him to the nearest brothel. Even the tips of his ears felt as if they were burning.

“Discreet, Casey? Is that what you said the bartender would be when he gave me directions? Sheesh.” Chuck scowled and slung the satchel under his arm. “One of these days, I’m going to have you look up the word discreet, and then you can tell me what you thought it meant.”

Because really, who on earth knew there was such a thing as a ‘Virgin at the Altar’ bell? Big, brass, hanging from a chain by the swinging doors, to be rung by the nearest patron when the bartender bellowed the order – and man, he had some vocal chords – that proclaimed a new virgin sacrifice at Sabine’s dais.

The next thing Chuck knew, he was being hustled out the door to the chorus of bawdy applause and hearty slaps on the back. The howling catcalls continued to follow him out to the street. The worst of it was ribald advice.

“Don’t worry, laddie, it only hurts the first time!” one gravelly voice called out, interrupted by laughter.

“If you spend yourself too quickly, ask for a two-fer. I’m sure Sabine will understand!”

Chuck could feel his neck turning bright pink all over again. He swore to God, Casey had to know. Somewhere his boyfriend was laughing about the Prairie Dew’s rite of passage, an initiation of sorts to a club where he didn’t even want membership.

Well, thanks a bunch, John. He’d scowl at him later when he didn’t have quite this quantity of horse manure stuck to his boots.

The half hour spent in the bar hadn’t made the rain let up any. Great. Chuck adjusted his bag to protect it from the deluge, but just by the weight of his satchel, he could tell it was already a sodden mess. It had been awhile since his improvised cloth bath on the train in Wichita yesterday, and the downpour only seemed to bring out his stench a bit more, not less. Here he was, resembling a soaking wet dog that had been left in the yard. There was no fixing this first impression.

Chuck took his time surveying the dark alley down one direction and then the other. He didn’t think he was being followed, but then again, it had been years since he played Hide and Seek. The game had a tendency to be more stressful when his life could be at stake.

“Okay, go right until I see the flour mill,” Chuck continued to talk to himself, recalling the conversation with the bartender. “Then catty-cornered at Edda’s Millinery. Easy enough. After that ... what was it? The -”

Two men suddenly burst out of a yet another saloon, making Chuck jolt. After a moment of trying to swallow his heart back down from his throat, he glimpsed over to see they were leaning on each other and laughing.

Chuck felt a rush of oxygen out of his lungs. He should really work on his badass routine if was going to be the life partner of the biggest one he had met.

For now, a new habit made him duck his head to cover his face with the wide-brimmed hat, and the kid turned away from them to keep striding along the storefronts.

“Follow the brick wall around the machine shop,” he replayed under his breath, “and make another left between two picket fences.”

Chuck ran a nervous hand down the front of his long duster and plodded through the mud. At least he guessed it was his, since it was in his bag and Casey’s letter told him to put it on, though he had never laid eyes on the get-up before this evening. Back in Kiowa, the kid had seen dodgy types in town wearing similar trail clothes. Coats made out of heavy-duty canvas with corduroy cuffs and sturdy collars. The buttons along the thick placket were probably intended to keep out the elements, but they really stunk at that during hurricane force wind storms.

Heck, he’d take ten squalls and a tornado rather than show his face in the Prairie Dew again.

“Now what?” Chuck wiped at the rain hitting his face and squinted ahead. The road hooked sharply past the brick wall, something he wished the bartender would’ve cared to mention. The kid’s heart had gone beyond the speed of humming bird wings. It was now beating so hard against his ribs he swore it would be visible through the coat.

Moving cautiously, Chuck peeked around the corner past a screen of tall bushes. The spot gave him a view of along the picket fence, leading to a tall cross-hatched white gate with vines wrapped around its arbor.

This is where the instructions would deviate, since the bartender had advised him to go in through the front door. He had no intention of traipsing in that way. Ever.

Take the side gate to the garden, Casey’s letter had said. Follow the path to the back door. Sabine will let you in.

“That’s it?” Chuck wrinkled his nose. The scent of roses filled his nostrils as he pushed the gate open. Maybe Casey was right about Sabine. It would probably be a nice, calm, retreat from here on out.

-x-

The first task took over an hour. Too long. One element Casey hadn’t planned for was that when he buried the money, it was still daylight and he could see farther than his hand in front of his face. Why the hell didn’t he try this first in the pitch black of night as a dry run? Hell, he burned up fifteen minutes just to feel around on his hands and knees, churning up thick clods of damp earth, to make sure he had found the precise little patch before he was ready to begin digging.

Then some asshole had to go and forget a spade. Shaking his head at himself, Casey searched around until he found a piece of a board next to the barn that he could use as a shovel. By the time he hit the metal box about a foot deep, he found it easier to pull the dirt away with his hands

Only once did he have to stop and lay flat on the ground, waiting for two men to cross from the main house to the bunk house. They looked appropriately liquored-up by the way they stumbled inside, for which Casey was thankful. It made it easier to slip in and out of the main house once they fell into their whiskey-induced coma.

Casey knew that an hour after the lamp in Jo’s room went out, there would be no better time to move. With any luck it would be just the two goons who had stayed back to keep an eye on the house while Liam was in Canon City. His boss never traveled alone, preferring to bring along at least a couple of men who could get their hands dirty if the need arose. But Liam always left a small crew back at Black Rock as well, predictably to keep his mini fortress secured.

Casey took his gun out of the holster and led with it before poking his head around the corner of the barn. Nothing moved. Slipping his boots off, he left them by the gate and padded up quietly to the front porch. He didn’t think there was a chance he’d be mistaken for Santa Claus, even with the burlap sack holding the stuffed tin box slung over his shoulder. Unless St. Nick was a sure shot with .45 calibers.

The door was unlocked, just as it always was. Liam never saw a need to secure it, since a man would have to have a death wish to enter his home as an uninvited guest.

“Let’s do this,” he whispered. Second door on the right. Dresser against the back wall under the window. As he felt around, it occurred to him Liam hadn’t changed his room an iota. Almost as if he was expecting his best pupil to come back and live there again someday.

Casey slid the top drawer out noiselessly and set it on the bed. Hunkering down, he reached to the back near the wall and felt around for the box. There it was, pretty as a gift. Two seconds later, it joined the first one in the sack, and two seconds after that, Casey made his way down the oak stairs.

This was it. He was never coming back.

He had a heartbeat of a moment to wonder what would happen to Jo before he heard a soft snapping noise that came from the parlor.

Casey pulled up short at the sound. A flagging ember in the fireplace, hissing. Something else was burning. Though he was twenty feet away from the front door, Casey could feel his shoulders tighten with every step that brought him closer to freedom and a clean get-away with the money.

He snaked around the corner to cross in front of the parlor, putting a hand on his holster. The mellow scent was stronger now. The tang of burning tobacco made him stop dead in his tracks. Unmistakable. He’d know it anywhere.

Casey whirled towards the arched opening of the parlor, his Colt up and pointed.

He was just quick enough. The minute he turned, the tip of the thin-rolled cigarette Liam held between his fingers intensified in its glow, accentuating his tight smile and the hollows of his hardened face. Three men stood shoulder to shoulder with him, none that he recognized.

And they were all holding pistols aimed in the vicinity of Casey’s head.

“Good lad. Nice of you to join us, Johnnie.” The cool Irish voice was matter-of-fact. “I’ve wanted to see you again. Discuss a little business.”

Casey took aim at his former boss’ forehead.

Without seeing anyone move, an explosion at Casey’s temple put pinpoints of light in front of his eyes. White-hot pain shot through his skull. The impact jarred his head to the side and he stumbled to his knees. The last thing he remembered was his chin hitting the floor and getting a view that he never wanted. Highly polished black boots that belonged to the chairman of Black Rock. A man who would be hell-bent on fixing the aftermath of his most trusted associate’s betrayal.

-x-

After a few seconds of deliberation, Chuck shuffled ahead and blinked stupidly at where he had landed. “Huh. Not so imposing, I guess.”

The past two days had been bizarre on far too many levels, but he didn’t expect this. He found himself surrounded by blooms. Roses in every shade between pristine white to others that looked black in the darkness dotted each side of the path. A window to the right of the back door was covered by a thin red and white gingham curtain, allowing light from a lamp to leak into the garden so that Chuck didn’t have to feel his way blindly.

The raindrops slapped against the leaves and ground, giving the air the scent of flowers and wet earth. Almost heavenly. Well, minus the types of transactions taking place on the other side of that door.

Oh, God.

Moseying along the rock pathway, Chuck paused as he neared the door, taking in one long breath. “Okay, think. What do I say?” he asked himself. “Hey, you don’t know me but we have something in common.” Or someone, at least.

Chuck automatically reached into his black duster and ran his fingers over Casey’s letter to Sabine. It, like everything, was soaked and he hoped the ink hadn’t run.

He was here. He made it to the safe house without a hitch. Without getting killed, captured, or even a darn hangnail to speak of.

Chuck raised his hand, braced himself with a silent prayer, and knocked.

The door swung open with a force that made him scramble backwards. The crank and snap of a rifle ratcheting sounded incredibly close to his left ear. Chuck threw his hands in the air, almost turning his head to see who had a muzzle pressed to his temple – until a jab told him that would be a bad idea.

“Ow. Ouch,” and Chuck stressed the word to let someone know that hurt, even as he reached his hands higher. “I knew this was going a little too well!”

“Drop your gun,” said a stiff voice, “or I’ll shoot you.”

“I don’t have anything!” He glanced up. “Unless ... do shaking hands count?”

“Shut up.” The order came with another nudge of cold metal. Harder than the first time. “What words do you have, boy, before I shove you into the hands of your Maker?”

-x- End Chapter Twenty-Five Sins Fell Angels-x-


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Six

-x-

Chuck sucked in a breath and froze. “Got it. Don’t move, or get dead.”

“Your lips are moving, boy. Might want to take care of that.”

Chuck started to assure the trigger person he would shut up, thought better of it, and closed his mouth.

Why would Casey send him to his death? Who would want to put a bullet in his brain? Or would the unseen attacker – a woman? – holding a gun to his head finally let him in on the punch line. Because this had to be someone’s idea of a joke, right?

Except the tip of the barrel against his temple was ice cold, colder than the rain streaming over his face and down his back, mingling with the flop sweat that had sprung up the second he felt it shoved to his head.

“I’m going to ask you – nuh-uh, don’t even think of turning your head to look at me – what do you have to say before I ruin that pretty new hat of yours, kid.”

“Um, please don’t let my last vision on earth be the sight of my own blood spattering the ground.” Hearing his voice crack, Chuck squeezed his eyes shut and sent up a short prayer to any deity that may be listening. “Though if you think about it, I have to wonder if the fear of seeing my own blood is a moot point, since I’ll probably be dead by then?”

“...the hell?” The woman lined up the muzzle to his forehead. “Good-bye, you damn fool.”

“Wait! No shooting!” Chuck stretched out his fingers. “I – I really don’t want to end up as rose fertilizer!”

“Shoot ‘im!” another voice yelled. “He’s not right in the head to be here!”

Chuck goggled at the latest addition to the party. “Here’s the thing: your advice is not helpful!”

“Shut. Up,” the one holding the gun ordered before flashing a look to the other. “Ever see him before?”

“No, but he looks shoddy. I’d shoot him, just to be safe.”

“Safe? For who?!” It took every ounce of courage the kid had not to fall flat to the ground. What would Casey do? The only weapon Chuck had was the tiny ivory-handle pistol, and common sense told him he’d be dead by the time his hand reached under his jacket. “Oh, God. He – he told me to tell you ... something. What was it?”

“Tell me what,” the woman spat, not lowering the gun. Not even an inch.

“It’s a little hard to think right now.”

She edged in front of him, and he wanted to warn her about the long emerald-hued skirt dragging through the mud puddles, until the muzzle poked him in the head. “Will this help?”

“Not p-particularly,” Chuck remarked, getting his first good look at his soon-to-be-murderer. Long, dark hair, high cheek bones, tall and willowy. If he wasn’t on the brink of dying, his brain would tell him the brunette had an exotic air that most men found beautiful. Even the torrential downpour that had all of them soaked to the bone couldn’t hide that.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Obviously works for him, Sabine,” the shorter woman at the doorway said. “Kill him.”

Sabine? “Um, hang on.” The gun to his head wasn’t helping much, but shifting his eyes to the side did. Chuck’s gaze latched onto flowers like flawless pompons. Almost like sunbursts, which was how his heart felt right about now. “White chrysanthemums?”

“What did you say?” Raindrops had gathered on the woman’s lashes. She wasn’t about to drop her guard by wiping at them. Narrowing her eyes at Chuck, her trigger finger tightened. “You must really want to die, kid.”

“Not – not my first choice,” Chuck said. “Honestly, I thought the formal introduction would go a little better.” Given the proximity of the rifle’s barrel to his forehead, Chuck only nodded minutely at the flowers. “He helped you plant them. Along the fence ... over there? Please don’t shoot me.” Panic began to scrabble across his skin when she didn’t lower the rifle. Wasn’t there another pertinent detail? Oh, yeah. Idiot! “John Casey. He sent me.”

The woman was silent for a moment, though she chewed on the corner of her lip. “What did you say?”

“Yes, Casey. I have a letter from him ... if you want to see it.”

Sabine’s eyes cut up, met his. It was minute, but she definitely had hitched a tiny breath at the name. Chuck only noticed this because her low cut dress revealed a great deal of the milky white chest above her breasts. He’d be staring if he were into that type of thing. “Who are you?”

“I can leave,” Chuck said, feeling bold enough to back up a step. “I’m nobody, honest –”

“Move again, and I put a bullet through your head, boy.”

Keeping his hands in the air, Chuck tried not to obsess over her accent by trying to place it. He just never pictured dying at the hands of a woman who pronounced the high impact slug as a boulette. From her lips, she could make it sound harmless and pretty. “Sorry. Just reflexes.”

Sabine eyed him as if weighing the odds he was worth the ammunition. “Get inside,” she finally said. “If you even think of reaching for a gun, I’ll shoot.”

“I won’t ... I promise. Just please don’t -”

“Sabine, he could be lying.” The other woman, raven-haired with skin the color of bronze, gestured at his head like she wouldn’t mind seeing a bullet there. “It could be a trick –”

“It’s not. You have my word!”

Sabine snorted. “Luciana. Move out of the way.” Chuck felt the gun pull away, only to jab him in his ribcage. “You,” she said to the kid. “Walk.”

The woman called Luciana shuffled backwards, scowling at him.

He wanted to point out to her that he was only following orders and there was no reason to give him that look. “I – I won’t be offended if you don’t want me to come in – ow. Okay, okay.”

“I said walk.”

Chuck began to sweat harder when he found himself steered inside and left standing on a rug. A kerosene lamp washed the room in golden light, allowing the women to come around him to get a better look at his face. “I’m harmless. Honest,” he told them.

“Eh. Mignon.” Sabine mumbled something, squinted at him. “Mais les cheveux bizarre.”

Chuck frowned. “What?”

“Where’s the letter?”

“In my j-jacket,” he stammered. Instincts warned him not to reach for it, unless he wanted an extra unnecessary hole.

“Get it out for him,” Sabine demanded, glancing at the other woman.

“It’s bogus, Sabine,” the woman scoffed. “I’m sure of it.”

“Well, if it’s bogus, we take him back outside.” To shoot him, Sabine didn’t need to say aloud.

The one she had called Luciana approached him, slid a hand into his coat, and felt around until she found the damp envelope. “I have it.”

“Open it.”

“The ink has run a little.” Luciana had already taken the liberty of tearing it open. Holding out her hand, she took the rifle as the women traded the letter for the weapon, never letting it waver from the hostage. “I’m not as nice as her, pretty boy. You move, you dead.”

“I’ll try not to drip, then,” Chuck said, glancing down at the floor.

The women tilted their heads up at him before they shared an amused look. Sabine then shrugged and unfolded the paper. “Written in a hurry, I see ....”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Chuck tried to explain. “At least ... the parts I can tell you.”

“You’ll tell me what I need to know,” Sabine said, scanning the letter. What in the world did it say? He had no clue, but by peeking over Sabine’s shoulder, the kid could only see that it was even shorter than the letter Casey had left for him.

Hell, Casey. If there was any situation that called for lots of words and babbling, wasn’t this it?

“Okay. I can see that’s a rather meager commentary, so I’ll start.” Chuck cleared his throat and noticed his hands, still in the air, were shaking. “He ... Casey, I mean – did I say that? Oh, I guess I did. Anyway, he’s in a bit of a pickle – you could say we both are – and he said that you owed him a favor or two. That sounds bad, doesn’t it? What I meant is that he wanted to ... well, get me out of the way for a while – I’m pretty sure this is the part I can’t tell you about - and he might’ve mentioned that you had a place where I could stay –”

“Christ almighty,” Sabine murmured, lowering the letter to stare at him. A worried line between her eyebrows appeared. “John Casey, what in the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

“Um, I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, hell, this is precious, Casey,” she went on, ignoring him. “How did you let that happen ..?”

“What happened ... exactly?”

Part of him wanted to drop to his knees when Sabine took the gun from Luciana. Fear was replaced by bewilderment, however, when he saw her lips held firmly together as if suppressing a smile.

A smile? She’s crazy. Casey sent him to a crazy woman.

“Hold still,” she said.

“Not ... not going anywhere – ah – watch it. I mean, please watch it.” Given that she nudged his chin up with the muzzle, Chuck saw no other choice but to lift his head for her and hold his breath.

“Nice eyes. Pretty mouth ....” Sabine took a step closer, sliding the barrel along his cheek to turn his head, one way and then the other. The move gave him a terrifying vision of a sleek cat playing with a mouse. “Take off the hat.”

“Wh-what?”

Rather than wait, Sabine rolled her eyes and lifted the shotgun, using the tip of it to flip the hat off his head. “I want to get a good look at you.” She did, too, swiftly perusing his face, but her eyes stopped at the top of his head. “Mm. Un peu fou.”

“Not sure what you’re getting at ..?” Chuck began until realization dawned on him. After his hat had been removed, his soaking wet hair had to be either a menagerie of curls plastered to his forehead or stuck straight up. Neither option was great. Forgetting he shouldn’t lower his hands, the kid quickly smoothed his dark locks and mustered up a smile. “Sorry, it, uh, has a mind of its own.”

“I see that. Some people call it multiple personality disorder.” The small grin she had so far repressed broke loose. “You’re not exactly the type he usually ... found company with. Far too pure, I’d say.”

Chuck bristled. The aura of badass he expected from the black duster didn’t seem to be working. “You just met me,” he pointed out. “I could be ... well, a very bad man.”

Sabine just laughed at that. “But those curls ..? That smile you showed me a second ago? Well, John always had a liking for young men with your ... physical attributes.” She folded her arms over her gown and smirked up at him. “Huh. Now that I can see you, you had to be quite the devilish combination for him.”

“I ... was?”

“One he didn’t find anywhere else. I’d say he fell for you. Hard. Is that it?”

“I assume we’re talking about the same man?” Chuck asked. Her curious look should’ve relaxed him. It made him want to run back out the door. “Casey doesn’t fall for anything.”

Less than convinced, the woman held out a hand. “Do you have a gun?”

Casey’s gun? Okay, he was not about to hand that over to her. “I happen to hate violence,” Chuck said. “Guns of any kind.”

“This might help you remember.” The tip of the barrel returned to the familiar place on his forehead. “Let’s try this again,” she said, and rising on her tiptoes, she whispered closer to his ear, “Do you have a gun?”

“Yes, I do,” Chuck blurted. Considering the muzzle stuck to his head, he could only point with his eyes. “In the other side of my jacket. Small pocket at my hip.”

“That’s better.” Sabine lowered the rifle and reached into his coat, her hand drawing along his shirt and down to his hip. Latching onto the gun, she tugged it out and examined it. “A little girly, don’t you think? Even for you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, but please be careful with that,” Chuck pleaded. “He can get a little angry when people touch his things.”

“We’ll have to keep you away from the girls, then,” Sabine purred, her voice far to teasing. “Though ... I have a feeling that won’t be a problem.”

The same heat Casey could work out of him just by a few soft rumbles crept over his face. “No, no problem here. I’ll keep my eyes closed the entire time if you like,” he said. “You have my word.”

Before Chuck could make good on his promise, he did spend a few seconds looking at the chambers he had been so unceremoniously pushed into. It really didn’t look like a place where money was exchanged for sexual favors. On the other hand, it was only one room, and who knew what murky transactions occurred beyond the pair of doors near the corner.

“There’s nothing scary to see here, kid,” Sabine said, noticing his scrutiny. “Except for Luciana and I, of course.”

Without a doubt they were daunting, but to his utter surprise, the room itself felt strangely ... safe. Warm, even. It was nothing more than a kitchen with a sitting area. A cast iron stove with ornate scrolled etchings sat against one wall next to a pine cupboard, an oak table and chairs near it. Two velvet upholstered chairs were on either side of a stone fireplace on the opposite wall. An ornamental clock with brass leaves and painted porcelain was on the mantle, keeping time with a soothing tick-tock.

Heck, there wasn’t a silk-covered bed or scantily clad person to be found.

When Chuck turned to face them, he saw the women checking out the pistol that he had been relieved of a minute ago. “Am ... I getting that back?”

“It’s his, all right,” Luciana said to Sabine.

“It is. John’s Derringer. Mother of pearl inlay ... mahogany.” Lifting it to peer down the barrel, Sabine half turned and cocked a brow at the kid. “Oh, he has it bad all right. Casey never lets anyone touch his weapons, let alone lend one to another man.” Her eyes drifted over Chuck, from his dripping boots to his hair. “Though I expect in this case he was willing to make ... an exception.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re charming, boy, no doubt about that. But just to be safe, Luciana, check his bag.”

“Is that necessary?” Chuck said, still eyeing all three escape routes, “because I have ... well, things in there that are important to me.”

“Sorry, kid. I’ve been charmed before. You could’ve stolen the gun ... wrote the letter. Lu?”

Since he had been forced to drop the bag and put his hands in the air, Luciana was stuck with the job of lugging it past the threshold and inside. “It’s not just clothes, Sabine,” she huffed, slamming the door behind her. “He’s got something else. Guns, maybe. I still say he could be working for –”

“Open it. Let’s see.” Yep, just as Chuck suspected, the cool metal of the muzzle touched his skin again. At least it was only his neck this time, though when did that become a silver lining? “A girl can never be too safe.”

“It’s nothing, I swear.”

“If you did pull one over on us, boy, I’d have to compliment you for that. Before I kill you, of course.”

Luciana hunched over and began pawing through it. “Que es esto ... the hell?”

“What?” Sabine flicked a look down, momentarily taking her eyes from Chuck.

“Books. Dozens of them. No wonder it weighs a puta tonelada.”

“Very important books,” Chuck broke in, deciding not to mention he had studied Spanish and it did not weigh a fucking ton. Seventy-five pounds at the most. “Those are my ... um, designs, and I need those to stay intact.”

“Drawings, too, Sabine.” Luciana, paying no mind to him, opened up one of his leather-bound notebooks and eventually sneered at them. “Giant birds?”

“Th-that’s a – a flying machine.” The kid tried to keep indignation out of his voice, but her smirk wasn’t helping. “Do you mind putting it back now?”

“And some kind of ... tools.”

“Anything dangerous?” Sabine shot a quizzical look at Luciana, but Chuck knew she was measuring his body language. Good, because the sweat on his neck and the stuttering should’ve told her he wasn’t a decoy.

“Extrano.” Luciana held up a flat wooden tool by the handle. “What’s this?”

“A planer,” Chuck explained. “The only way it’s dangerous is if you get your pinky finger stuck under the dome in front.” Damn, it still hurt just to think about it.

“This?”

“Okay, so that’s a screwdriver, and technically, yes, it could be used as a weapon to poke someone in the eye or other various weak and susceptible spots on the human body – but that’s horrible. Who would do such a thing?”

“Your boyfriend, for one,” Sabine said under her breath.

“He – he would no –” All right. Point for Sabine.

As Chuck blinked away the image, the woman slanted her head at him and she lowered the Derringer. “What’s your name, boy?”

Someone getting tired of being called boy, he almost grumbled. After all, Sabine appeared to be only ten years older than him. “Chuck ... Bartowski,” he said, swapping out the last name belatedly. Adams was dead, remember?

“You’re a terrible liar, Chuck Bartowski.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he said, staring down at his riffled-through bag. “Can you close it now? Sheesh, it’s kind of rude to dig through a person’s belongings, don’t you think?”

The women exchanged eye rolls, and Chuck had a hunch it had to do with his naiveté. He also had a hunch that riffling was standard operating procedure in a place like this. “Anything else, Luciana?” Sabine asked.

“Nothing valuable. Just clothes. Everything’s pretty wet.”

Chuck glanced instinctively at the bag before he remembered not to telegraph every last thought. Hiding Casey’s money inside the lining actually worked? “Do you believe me yet?” he asked. “Now, about the gun -”

“Hang the clothing up by the stove, Luciana,” Sabine said, disregarding him by pocketing Casey’s pistol. “After that, we’ll need to find something in the stash that fits him. Could be a problem, by the looks of it. Do we have anything that long that would fit girl hips?”

“Hey, wait a minute, they’re not –”

“You can put your hands down.”

Chuck wrinkled his nose at the back-handed comment but complied. “You have a stash of clothes?”

“Yes. Men have a tendency to leave articles of clothing here.”

“Oh. Occupational hazard, I suppose.”

“That’s one way to think of it.” She moseyed around to stand in front of him, hands on her waist. “Don’t worry your sweet head, boy. We take it out to the laundress and fold it away. Always comes in handy sooner or later. Get undressed.”

“My clothes are fine where they are, but thanks.”

“You’re dripping, Mr. Bartowski,” Sabine said, looking down at the puddle before she pointed her chin in the direction of Luciana, laying out his clothes next to the stove. “And those things are wet. Now if you’re shy, I do have girls here with ... ample experience at stripping a man, but something tells me you won’t enjoy it as much as my usual clientele.”

“Actually, I should go now.”

Sabine’s lips drew up, accentuating the glee in her almond-shaped eyes. “Oh, we are going to have some fun with you.”

“I’m sorry, who is it that’s having fun here? Because between all of the firearms being pointed at me, the digging through my bag, and threats to take my pants, I’m getting a little confused.”

“Only making it worse, boy. Besides, John will be mighty displeased with me if I let his plaything catch a cold on top of everything else. So strip.”

“No, thank you,” Chuck replied, glowering. He had to fight every fiber of his being not to deploy The Morgan, an old standby when dealing with flirty, confusing-as-all-get-out women.

“You are a cute kitten, I must admit.” Her voice was deceptively mild as she extended her hand. “Now give me your pants.”

“Eerie how much you’re alike.” Chuck forced himself to fold his arms over his coat. “Something tells me you and Casey got along just fine.”

“You’re right. We did.”

“I’ll go get the extra clothes,” Luciana said, and though there was plenty of space to pass, she deliberately rubbed a hip against him, leaving behind a cloud of scent from her perfume. “I’m starting to warm up to you, kid. Don’t go anywhere.”

Chuck gulped at the violation of his personal space and rounded on Sabine. “You’re not getting my pants.”

“Start with your coat, then.”

“It’s not really mine,” he mumbled, but seeing no other choice, he pulled it off and handed it to her. “I was wearing it when I woke up.”

“Interestingly, the opposite problem for the men who wake up here,” she said. Laying it over the back of the chair, he could see her arch a brow to get a good look at him. “I was right about the hips, but he usually didn’t go for ones that slender.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Hair can be cut, though. That’s a bonus. Good shoulders, broad chest ....” She pursed her lips, appraising him as if he were a piece of meat. “You could earn your keep here for a few days, kid – if you think John would be okay with it.”

All of the blood drained from Chuck’s face. His eyes bulged. “Wh-what?”

“Well, sure. Look at you,” she said. “I wouldn’t be too worried about what Casey thinks. Granted, it may not go over so well – we both know how he is when people put their hands on his things – but since he’s not around, maybe you wouldn’t mind putting to practice some of the new skills I’m certain he passed on to you ..?”

Chuck gaped and turned beet red at the same time. Quite a feat. He’d be impressed if he could catch a breath. “He – he didn’t show me anything – honest.”

“We are talking about John Casey?”

“Um, y-yes?”

“We both know the man took one look at you,” Sabine said, “and decided on the spot he was going to find out if those legs were half as flexible as they appear. Am I right?”

“Oh my God.”

“You seem to have the build for endurance, at least. Oh, did he take you swimming? Now, Johnnie had a real fondness for that.”

Chuck slapped a hand over his eyes. Why, he had no idea, but perhaps he could pretend he was somewhere else far away. Anywhere else, really. “Actually, I can’t swim – and I’m quite clumsy.”

“Ah, I see. You were inexperienced when he met you. Hm. Of course you were. He’d like that, too. A challenge.”

“I need my coat back,” Chuck said. “Now, please.”

“Maybe you made him work a little to get you on your back. Or other ways, I suppose, as the preference may be?”

“You know, I don’t even need the coat. Hey, keep it. I’m sure the rain has let up by now.” Chuck held out the hand not covering his eyes and turned his palm up. “If I could just have my bag, though – oh, and the pistol. He will kill me if I don’t have that.”

“On a related note, what do you think about wearing a silk petticoat?”

“Petti - what?” He forced himself to look at her by peeking through two fingers.

“Well, sure.” Sabine, twisting a lock of her hair, made no effort to give him the coat. “Some men are into that type of thing.”

“That’s a ... thing?” My God! Why did Casey never mention these things?

Better question, why the hell did Casey send him into the jaws of these insane womenfolk!

“Sure. They like an adorable man dressed in women’s clothing.” She put a hand on his arm, seemingly to hold him still in order to size him up for a skirt or god knows what else. “Your height could be a bit of an issue, it’s true ... but luckily I think even my hips are wider than yours, boy, so we should be able to wrangle up a dress that will fit you. Off the shoulder?”

“Dresses ... come that way?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Mais oui. Where have you been hiding? Oh, have you ever thought of shaving your legs ... or anything else? You seem a bit, er, hairy.”

“I ... am?”

“I’m sure Casey loves it, but some men like their treats with a little less ... well ....” She let her voice trail off, and for a reason the kid couldn’t fathom, she glanced downward.

And there it was. Somehow, his stunned-stupid intellect picked up on the tiniest hint, the way her mouth curled as she then turned her head to put a teapot on the stove.

Damn.

It hit him: that woman really was messing with him.

“Black tea, darling?”

Chuck’s brows rose to his hairline. Holy hell, she was playing him like a violin. Well, wasn’t this the time to let her know he wasn’t going to be trifled with by the fairer sex? His job was not to be their entertainment for the next week.

Chuck forced the appalled look from his face and braced himself. Here goes. “You might be on to something,” he said, putting nonchalance in his voice. “One question: do I get a private room at least?”

“What?” Her head spun towards him.

“Well, you had a point. Maybe I do need to earn my keep around here.” Chuck made himself give off a resigned sigh and rubbed a hand through his wet hair. “I mean, if I have a chance to broaden my horizons, and can get away with it behind John Casey’s back ... why would I not learn a few more tricks before I settle down with the old ball and chain?”

Whoa. Sabine narrowed her eyes at him in a frighteningly familiar way.

The tiny angel on his shoulder warned him he should stop, but the devil whispered a suggestion. He listened to the one with horns.

“What – what kind of dress do you think would show off my legs?”

“Better be one that hides a chastity belt, kid,” she muttered.

“I was thinking something understated, yet a little bit of splash to it? Hey, do you have anything in maroon-colored silk? I’ve always wondered if it would play off the color of my eyes.”

“Black and blue? Because there is no way -”

“And there’s probably no reason not to get started right away. Heck, even Casey would agree that once you decide to do something, well, pull the trigger so to speak. Oh, will Luciana be able to find ladies’ slippers in size thirteen? Sorry. Big feet.”

“You should be more worried about the size of John’s boots.”

Now that Sabine had turned a nice shade of pink, Chuck pretended to start working on the buttons of his shirt. “Do you think Casey will want a cut of the action, or should we just keep this a secret between – gah! Ow!”

Fairer sex? Being slugged on the arm by the woman was like being hit by a mule. “You giant smart ass!” she said, half-chuckling and half-swearing under her breath at him. “I can see why John is smitten with you.”

“Hey, you started it.” Chuck grinned and rubbed his arm. Maybe he finally understood why Casey sent him here. “And you did have me for a minute.”

“Humph. I like you, too, Chuck not-Bartowski.”

“So, truce?”

“Dream on, kid.” She snorted and nodded at the letter on the table. “John said to tell you that he’ll be no longer than one week. In the meantime, you’ll be safe here.”

“One whole week.” Chuck felt the mild frivolity sink to the floor, joining the puddles. “Did he tell you ... what he’s doing?”

“No, he doesn’t have to.”

Chuck bit his tongue. That lasted about two seconds before he pushed a hand through his hair and let go of a simple yet poisonous phrase. “Did he ever tell you about Liam? His boss?”

“Yes.” Her delicate features became stone-like. “I’ve heard of him.”

“I’m pretty sure Casey’s going after him,” Chuck said.

Sabine turned to the stove, her shoulders so tense he could see the muscles tug at the neckline of her dress. “A piece of advice, boy? Don’t get into the habit of doubting your boyfriend.”

The door that led to what Chuck guessed was the more disreputable part of the house swung open. “I found something,” Luciana said, holding out a small stack of folded clothes. “The shirt will be a bit large, but long enough. Eh, I guess you could say the same for the pants.”

“Thank you.” Chuck glanced at Sabine, but could see he wasn’t going to get anywhere in pulling more information out of her tonight. “Is there a place I can ..?”

“You can change here,” Sabine said.

Chuck automatically brought the clothes in front of his body, though they didn’t make much of a shield. “Ah, no. No, no, no. I’m not getting undressed in front of you.”

“You really are this coy, aren’t you? I can see why John had his hands ... full.” She motioned towards the fireplace. “Change over there where it’s warm. You’ll be alone for a while in here. I have to get out of these wet things. Then we’ll be in the parlor. I have a business to run.”

“So ... no one will ..?”

“Good Lord. No one is going to sneak a peek at your skinny butt. Come on, Luciana.”

Chuck stiffened as the women passed by, thinking they may try to rub up on him again. Women were just the damndest things when they found a man’s discomfort. It was like Christmas come early at the brothel. And since Chuck kept his eyes on them, not moving until they were out of the way, he saw Sabine when she hesitated in the doorway.

“One more thing, Chuck,” she said evenly, taking a silk shawl Luciana held out for her. “Your partner knows what he’s doing. John Casey doesn’t make mistakes like this. Whatever is going on, he’ll come back for you.”

-x-

Casey jolted awake, mid-groan. His eyes never opened. Why did his head feel like someone had shoved a railroad spike through it? Where the hell was he?

Before he moved another muscle, the impulses that had pulled him out of more shitty situations than he cared to think about warned him to assess, calculate. The same intuition didn’t bother to tell him to stay cool and composed because he never knew another way. No matter the tremors moving down his shoulders to the center of his back, the flood of realization that he’d been bested by his boss, and now there’d be hell to pay with his flesh.

Details began to leak in. He was sitting straight up in a chair, as erect as a man could be who had been knocked out cold. The ropes around his chest and the back of the chair held him up. His hands were tied behind him, forcing his shoulders and elbows back in an excruciating posture.

A fire crackled, a dark contrast to his frozen insides. The pendulum of a clock swept back and forth. He should know this place.

Liam’s private parlor. No other room felt as heavy as this.

Why didn’t he remember getting here? He had the money, all of it, in the sack. After that, his recollection became blurry, but the ache closing around his crown unleashed his awareness. He didn’t know how he missed the man behind him, but those were the kind of mistakes that got a man dead.

Liam was not in Canon City. He was here.

It wasn’t even a saving grace that he was still alive. Casey knew the actions his boss was capable of when betrayed. Administering the kind of hurt that burned from the inside and out at the same time. He wasn’t planning on sticking around, but other options were scarce until he could get his hands loose and find his gun.

Casey wriggled his dead fingers and took in a breath. His senses told him he was being watched carefully by a pair of black eyes. When he managed to drag his eyelids up, his suspicion was confirmed.

“Johnnie lad,” Liam said, leaning forward in his leather wingchair, “nice of you to join me here. Saved me the trouble of finding you.”

Casey lifted his head and blinked away the orange sparks that wanted to move into his line of sight. His boss’ chair was positioned directly in front of the straight-back, wooden chair Casey had been tied to. Everything Liam did had purpose, a reason, and right now his purpose was to remind Casey that he was prisoner and as good as dead.

“I made a mistake, didn’t I,” Liam went on. He took a drink from a whiskey glass and set it down. “You’re surprised, too, to hear me say that. Not often do I misjudge a man. Put trust where it doesn’t belong.” His hand moved from his own knee to Casey’s, squeezed hard enough to make Casey grit his teeth. “Until you, Johnnie. You were the one man I always trusted. And now you would’ve been my downfall.”

A sphinxlike stare was the only response Casey would give him.

“You ate from the fanciest china. Had the best things, didn’t you, laddie? More than you ever had on your own.” Liam reached over with his other hand, pinched the rolled cigarette in the tray, and took a long drag from it. While he slowly released a puff of smoke, dragon-like, his eyes stayed affixed to Casey’s. “I wanted to give you more than that, too ... but you wouldn’t take it. Not from me.

“All these years,” he continued in an implacable voice, “I thought I had found a man who was hollow here.” Liam paused, drew his fingers up Casey’s leg, past his stomach to his chest. Over his heart, he tapped him through his shirt. “Incapable of feeling anything for another woman ... or man.”

The realization of where Liam was taking this made him want to punch something. Despite the clawing and writhing inside his stomach , Casey continued to stare, waiting for him to confirm his fears.

“Eventually I came to accept it, Johnnie. Oh, I hated having to acknowledge your rejection, but you had other attributes that would prove to be too valuable. You have the brawn, but more importantly, the brains to go with it. A formidable combination.”

Casey despised hearing himself discussed at all, ever, but being dissected like a commodity had his fists clenching behind his back.

“I decided that having you here with me was the best I would get, and I could find physical comfort elsewhere.” Liam laid a hand on Casey’s cheek. Casey was helpless as his thumb slid over to graze the corner of his lips. “As long as I had your loyalty.”

Only after Liam’s attention roamed to Casey’s mouth, lingered, did a leer finally split his face.

“Then came a boy,” he drawled between stiff lips. His hand drifted down, settled on a place between Casey’s legs that he considered proprietary to a certain mop-headed kid. “A pure, gentle boy, I bet, eh? Flashing those pretty doe eyes at you. Kind of like training a colt, isn’t he, John?”

Liam took another drag and snuffed out the cigarette. His other hand held onto Casey as if it was natural to finally take him in his palm. “Did you like the way he looked at you with those eyes, laddie? Was that it? Or was it something else. Beautiful smile, long legs. Harvard educated, according to his father. That makes him smart enough for you, too, I suppose.”

Casey turned his head and spat out a wad on the Turkish carpet.

“Tsk, tsk,” Liam said, not turning his attention to the glob though Casey knew it would make his spine tingle with irritation. “All this time, I thought your lack of reciprocation was just part of who you are. Detached, unfeeling. You’d never let another man or woman get under your skin.” Liam took a breath. His hand tightened. “How wrong I was.”

Casey no longer felt the firestorm of agony in his head. He was all at once cold, very cold. Whatever denial there had been about keeping his secret- that this couldn’t be real, that this wasn’t going to happen - there was none now. Casey had let himself become raw and exposed.

And Chuck would be the one to pay the price for that negligence.

“Imagine my surprise when you were gone,” Liam said, making no apologies for fondling Casey through his jeans. “When the boy was gone. You don’t look surprised at all. Or repentant. Nothing to say yet, John?” When Liam bent forward and tilted his head, his thumb slipped in between the buttons. “Not even when I do this?”

Oh, God, Casey wanted to kill him. At least there was hatred on his side. It kept his body from being spurred into an unwanted reaction.

“I waited for those two hell rousers to bring the kid to the meeting with that blue belly father of his. Two days.”

Suddenly, the hand on his crotch released him. It was hardly a relief, since Casey knew what was coming. Up until then, he thought he would rather be gut-punched than be forced to sit in the chair and listen to him, but when it finally hit, Casey had to question his own logic.

Especially as Liam’s fist slammed into his gut and the entire room turned hot white and red.

“For nothing,” Liam went on, his voice entirely emotionless. “Little did I know, you had already given me the slip and took the boy with you. You’re surprised I’m here, then? I suppose like every dying man, you want to know your fatal flaw.” He shrugged and settled back in his chair. “The first telegram sent me on a goose chase. Yours, I presume?”

Telling him the truth would serve no purpose – Rudy had orchestrated it to get him out of the way - but at least Casey knew how he ended up tied to a chair. This was his own fault. He should’ve killed that slimy piece of shit and dear old dad at the farm when he had the chance.

“Now, the second telegram that arrived yesterday was much more ... informative.” Reaching over for his decanter, Liam refilled his glass and took another drink of whiskey. “I understand Rudy had an altercation when he tried to reacquire the young man.”

You mean when he tried to backstab you and make the deal on his own?

It took everything not to tell the psychopath in front of him how he had been manipulated like a puppet on strings.

“You went to great lengths, John, to save him. Admirable.” Lifting his glass, Liam gave him a mock toast and took another swig. “After all these years, it must hurt like a bitch to be in love,” he said, laughing a bit, though the chuckle was flat and hollow. “Particularly to a man so susceptible.”

The last word was drawn out for his benefit. Despite the chill running over his neck, Casey returned the icy stare.

“You see, Johnnie, as soon as I became aware of your change in loyalties, I knew a few things would happen. One, you’d get him out of the way – a safe haven, you would call it - and two, you’d come back to – well, let’s say close out our working relationship.”

Liam reached into his coat and revealed a horn-handled knife. Casey had seen him pluck out men’s eyes with it, like they were nothing more than fish eyes. Right now, he was twiddling with the wooden handle, contemplating.

“East or west, north or south. That’s the conundrum, isn’t it? Where would you hide something so ... precious. My gut told me north. A cabin next to the gulch of fucking nowhere. Safe.” The blade caught the lamplight, flashed. “But my scouts told me I was wrong. Someone spotted him getting off a train. A boy like that stands out in a crowd, no matter how you disguise him. Not the direction I would’ve guessed, but then again, I don’t like to leave things to chance.”

Outwardly, Casey’s face remained as still as carved marble. In his mouth, panic tasted metallic and barbed.

“St. Louis. You always had a soft spot for that city, Johnnie. I’ve never figured out why.” Liam eyed him for a sign that he had hit the mark.

Any other man would’ve missed Casey’s jaw twitch once, but the slight smile told Casey the snake had picked up on it.

Goddamn that utter bastard.

“Love made you weak, John,” Liam said. “Don’t be worried. I can assure you I have men turning the city upside down to locate him. And soon enough, you’ll be reunited.” If there were doubts where the happy get-together would occur, his boss gestured around the room using the knife. “Yes, here at Black Rock.”

Casey’s eyes fell on the blade. He’d give one of his arms to be able to take out Liam’s tongue with it. And then it’d be over. He wouldn’t have to hear what he now knew was coming.

“You want to know what else hurts, laddie?” Liam asked, and when he leaned forward, any joviality in his voice was replaced with hailstones. “Watching the thing you love suffer for your actions. Watch it die, with no more regard than a bug under my boot.”

Casey stared straight into his eyes, wondering how he’d kill Liam for what he was about to suggest.

“My only question to myself is how I want it to happen.” The man bunched his lips together as if this was a quandary and the answer would eventually come to him. “Oh, tsk. The boy has to die first – that part’s easy enough. How else can I make you feel what it’s like to lose something you hold so dear?”

Casey nearly began to struggle against his bonds or squeeze his eyes shut, but he had already given away too much. Some forgotten force made him sit straight and erect, tamping down on the urge to kill.

“Yes, he’ll be first.” Liam let that sink in by fishing another cigarette out of his brass box. He took his time lighting it, took more time to tap out the match. “But the question is this: do I let him watch us together first, or make you sit in a front row seat when I take him upstairs. Which hurts the most? Or ... is the answer both? Mm. Of course it is.” He grunted in satisfaction and took another drag. “I’m so glad you were here to help me talk this out.

His eyes gleamed with unholy wickedness that made Casey want to retch.

“Jareth,” Liam called over his shoulder. One of Liam’s gunslingers, dressed in a black trail coat and holding Casey’s second favorite revolver, appeared in the doorway. “Take Mr. Casey up to the loft in the barn. He’s familiar with the accommodations, so keep him tied.” He turned his eyes to Casey and patted his cheek. “You’ll have to wait a few days for the happy homecoming, laddie. But trust me on this. It’s going to happen.”

-x-

The fresh clothing, jeans and a white cotton shirt, made Chuck feel slightly more normal, though he would’ve preferred a bath first. And not that these were his clothes. His own britches and shirts, even his underwear, were drying over the back of a chair next to the fire. The garments Luciana had scrounged up for him were simply huge on his slender frame – the jeans bagged and the shirt billowed - but at least they were clean and dry. Okay, all things considered, it felt pretty ordinary sitting here by the hearth.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, happy laughter and a squeal drifted through the wall that separated Sabine’s personal quarters from her business suite. God, not again. That was what, the fifth time? Because every now and again if the rest of the house got too quiet, it happened. Muffled voices from couples up in the bedrooms, apparently enjoying private activities that Chuck couldn’t even think about without turning red, could be heard.

“Well!” Chuck said loudly, slapping his hands together. “I think this would be a good time to ....” To what? He was alone in the keeping room, nothing to distract him but his busy thoughts that eventually led to busier worries.

Chuck got up from the chair, remembered to hold onto the waistband of the jeans before they slid down, and dug through his satchel until he found a text book from Harvard he had ‘borrowed.’ Looking over his shoulder, the kid opened it up and removed his stash of paper dime novels. Just the act of rifling through the stack made him feel better. The Traitor Spy, Old Sleuth Library, all good friends when Chuck needed to escape from real life and get lost in another place for a while.

His father didn’t approve of the fantastical stories, worthless serials and gaudy illustrations. It was probably why Chuck loved them.

Grabbing a favorite, he settled back into the chair by the fire and within a few minutes, managed to block out the interesting noises that occasionally wafted in. So strong was the call of the nefarious James Gang that he failed to hear the door open.

“Having fun?” Sabine asked, shutting the door behind her.

“Oh, sure,” Chuck said. “Just trying to stay out of the way.”

“What are you doing?”

“Um ... nothing, really.” Plastering on his shiniest smile, Chuck slid the paper novel subtly into his text book – the History of Economics? Yeah, she’ll believe that - and sat up a little. “Just hanging out here ... watching my ... uh, clothes dry.”

Sabine put her hands on her hips and sashayed over to him. “You’re not hiding a gun, are you?”

“A gun?” Chuck gave her an offended look. “Of course not.”

“Then open the book.”

“I’d rather not, but thank you.”

“I’d rather you did, and I’m not asking.”

“You know, this might be the time to clarify a few things,” Chuck suggested. “Such as, will I will be allowed privacy while I’m here?”

She crossed her arms now. “I like knowing what I’m dealing with.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. We have that in common. Oh, that and the big, somewhat scary, growly guy.”

“You should know, Mr. Bartowski, I don’t fight like a girl.”

Chuck’s eyes widened. He’d hate to be taken down by a petite Madame, even if she was almost as terrifying as his boyfriend. “Since Casey trusted you enough to send me here,” he reminded her, “and obviously you trust him, I should think that alone puts me in the circle, right? Isn’t it a two-way street?”

He could see that little dart working under her skin, but her face remained resolute. “Show me what’s in the book.”

Chuck’s fingers tightened for the briefest of seconds before he reluctantly handed it over.

She flipped it open and cocked an eye at the colorful stacks of books inside. “What are these?”

“Dime store novels.”

“I know what they are. I’m just wondering why ... huh.” Sabine shook her head at him, and a grin blossomed in a way that made Chuck want to sink back in the chair. “You really are like this. It’s not an act?”

“Like what?”

“Just a sweet kid.”

Chuck frowned. Whether he was sweet or transparent, he really needed to work on a meaner strut or getting a scar if he was going to be fugitive on the run. “You say it as if there’s something wrong with it.”

“Not at all.” Passing the book back to him, she smiled and ruffled his hair, chuckling when he flinched away. “It’s just that it would make you precisely the opposite of the man you’ve managed to catch in your snare.”

“I haven’t snared anything,” Chuck muttered. “The last time I saw him, he drugged me, dressed me in borrowed clothes, and shoved me on a train. Good times.”

“Relax. You got off easy. Hell, kid, I’ve seen him do worse to people he likes almost as much as you.”

Chuck’s eyebrows went up. Every now and then he was reminded of why he shouldn’t piss off his boyfriend. “Is business slow tonight? Is that why you’re here to taunt me?”

“Cash has been collected, and everyone’s happy. For now, at least.” He could see Sabine tip her head towards the door before she turned to study him, chewing her bottom lip. “Unless you changed your mind and decided you would like to earn your keep? A man came by ... and he had a hankering for something a little firmer than -”

“So that would be a no, then. You weren’t done taunting me.”

She obviously fought back a smile, ignoring his scowl. “When was the last time you had something to eat?”

Chuck thought about it. His stomach answered with a rumble. “I guess it was on the train.”

“Dinner?”

“No, breakfast.” At her startled look, he quickly waved a hand at that. “The closer we came to the city, the more my appetite disappeared. Just nerves, I guess.”

“Land sakes, boy, why didn’t you say something?”

“It slipped my mind. Besides, it was a little hard to think with a gun at the back of my neck.”

“Aw. No hard feelings, kid.”

Chuck glared. “Oh, none here. I’ve grown accustomed to it by now.”

“Heh, glad to see you’ve gone from petrified to cranky,” she said. “I’ll get you a plate. We have plenty of food. People tend to get hungry later at night around here, and more than willing to pay five dollars for a sandwich or a piece of buttermilk pie.”

“Five dollars. Each?” Chuck was both appalled and impressed by the price. Not that he had doubts, but this was a shrewd businesswoman in front of him. “And what will you charge me?”

“So you are willing to barter?” Sabine answered, and gave him a lewd wink. “The man upstairs has been handled, but I can make arrangements for the next special request. They’d be more than happy to pay for the services of a long-legged button like you.”

“Not done with the taunting yet, I see.”

“But frankly, if your boyfriend shows up here and sees that you’re walking with a limp and still too skinny, there’ll be hell to pay.”

“And I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”

“Then shut up and eat.”

Before Chuck could ask what, a plate landed in front of him. Evidently, she had made good use of the time spent teasing him to load up enough for two dinners. “Thank you,” he said though he was still a bit peeved about her proposed trade agreement. Arguing would keep him from eating, and since Chuck had a bigger priority here, he dove in with a fork and nearly moaned in happiness at the potatoes with chicken and dumplings. He was so hungry, he was a little surprised that he hadn’t rummaged up the food earlier when he was alone, but that would just be rude.

“Tea?” When Chuck nodded, Sabine set a steaming cup in front of him. Pouring another for herself, she slid into the seat on the other side of the table and put her feet up on an empty chair. “Where are you from?” she asked. “You’re not from around here.”

“Kiowa,” Chuck said quickly as he chewed.

“You’re not from there, either.”

“I ... met John there.”

“How did you meet him?”

‘Come on, brown eyes. You’re not dead yet.’

Knocked out cold before waking up with a gun to my head? 

Whoa. It was like Sabine was Casey’s evil twin soulmate when it came to greetings. The gun part at least.

“Well, it’s, uh, complicated.” Chuck avoided her inquisitive eyes by focusing on his plate. “You could say it was a bit of a rocky start.”

“Rocky?”

“He threatened to kill me.”

For some reason, she wasn’t completely surprised by this. “Only threatened. Hm, he did like you.”

“Hah. Let’s just say it was slow thaw.” Chuck shoveled in a bite, hunching over his plate as recalled that first night. “But my punishment was to sew him back up and then he held me hostage in my own home. So, hey, lucky me, I guess.”

“Yet you had the charms to soothe the savage beast, it seems.”

Chuck rose from his seat to put a log on the fire, hoping the movement would hide a blush. “I don’t know why you keep implying – he’s not at all the man you think he is. He growls a lot, but he is house-trained, you know.”

Sabine chuckled. “He’s exactly the man I think he is,” she said, and held up her palm when Chuck opened his mouth to argue. “You and I ... we have something in common.”

“We do?” Chuck joggled the log with a stick before he sat down again and tried the tea. “No offense, but I never thought I’d share a trait with ... well ....”

“A Madame?” Sabine smiled. “Each of us ... saw something else in him. Not what he lets the rest of the world see.”

Chuck let that soak in, filling the silence by taking another bite. “I’m ... from Boston,” he admitted after a minute, moving some beans around on his plate. “That’s where I grew up. The place I ... left.”

“Eastern Yankee. I knew it. You’ve tried to get rid of your accent, but it’s there.” Taking a sip of tea, she studied his face for a moment. “What does a kid like you do in Boston? You have an occupation?”

What was a safe answer? I was a human meat locker for something called the Cipher? “I went to school. Harvard.”

“Ah, fancy. Was your –”

Someone pounded on the door. A half dozen times, hard.

Chuck jerked and nearly tipped over his tea. “Who would be –”

“You. Stay,” Sabine ordered, surging towards the window. She lifted a curtain and peeked into the darkened garden. “Fuck.”

Chuck’s heart immediately started hammering. Whoever was out there sent her into combat mode. “What is it?”

The pounding sounded again. He thought he heard at least three different voices, but it could’ve come from the party upstairs. As Chuck drew closer to the window, Sabine spun around and grabbed his arm.

“Don’t you dare.” Without looking back at him, Sabine strengthened her hold on Chuck’s arm and hauled, pulling him into motion. “Not a word out of you, boy,” she hissed. “Walk.”

“But - where are we going?” Chuck staggered behind her.

Instead of replying, she simply opened one of the doors – he hoped it wasn’t going to take him somewhere he really didn’t want to go - and propelled him through. “Honest to God,” she whispered urgently, “I will shove a sock in your mouth if you say one more word or so much as fart until I’m back.”

Chuck scrabbled backwards because no man wanted to be near a woman when she had that look in her eye. “But!”

“Get in there, you little corniaud! I don’t care what you smell!” The door slammed shut, trapping him in darkness. What was that noise? Chuck looked down to see the knob jiggle. A key in the lock told him he wasn’t going anywhere soon. He held his breath and blinked until his eyes began to adjust to the murk. Who the heck was out there?

Chuck rested his shoulders against something that felt like a shelf. At first, it was too hot and stuffy in what he guessed was a supply closet, judging by the dim shapes of a barrel and sacks he could see from the light beneath the door. Thirty seconds later, after hearing Sabine speak to the men outside, low voices that sounded angry and impatient, he felt both sweat and yet too cold. When he looked down, he felt his hands were shaking.

“... got off the train ... went into Prairie Dew.”

“... tall, young feller ....”

“... man said he saw ... by the millinery ... south ... only place with its doors still open ...”

“Paying customers enter through the front door, gentlemen,” he heard Sabine tell them. “These are my private quarters.”

“... reward ... for your troubles ... five thousand ....”

Warily, Chuck put his ear to the door and listened. A grating sound made his spine clench, traveling down every vertebrae. It was familiar to his ears since it was the same distinct ratcheting of a rifle that had greeted him earlier in the evening.

“I assure you, I know how to use this,” Sabine said. “Either go to the front door or get out of here.”

“... easy, little Miss .... don’t wanna cause a ruckus ... look inside? Feller could’ve snuck ....”

“Any man who tries to sneak in here without paying gets the working end of Miss Molly.”

Miss Molly. Talk about a welcoming committee. No wonder Casey has so much fondness for her.

“... may need to ask the sheriff ... take a little peek around is all ... be back ....”

“...enjoy the evening, little Miss ....”

When he heard the voices subside into the garden and the back door close, Chuck shifted his stance so instead of facing the door, he could prop himself up against it and stare into the gloom of the tiny closet. It felt easier to have a private freak-out that way.

His first thoughts – that he was only paranoid, that no one could track him here – were a complete wash. He didn’t get away at all. And eventually they’d catch up to him. As long as he was the only human Cipher, they were never going to let him loose.

-x-

Even though he was tired and his head hurt, Casey put his weight on one shoulder and tightened his arms, heaving himself over on his left side. Son of a bitch, it hurt like hell. Not willing to give anyone the gratification of hearing him, though he was almost certain he was alone in the barn, he bit his lip to hold back the curse. What emerged from his throat was a low grunt, barely audible, but it somehow made him feel better to hear a sound.

Being on his side for a few minutes relieved some of the pressure on his forearms. Not exactly a picnic, but he could wiggle his fingers and feel the blood rush back into them.

He couldn’t see at all – they’d snuffed the lantern after dumping his body to the floor – but he didn’t need to. Casey had spent too much time in the miniscule ‘cell’ where Liam had stashed the kid, and he knew pretty much every inch of the room. Hell, he had made sure Chuck stayed put, (it was for his own damn good at the time), so he knew there was no quick way to break out. Especially since he was still bound, hands knotted behind him, a special treatment reserved just for him.

God, you fucked up.

Leave it alone, he told himself, rolling his eyes.

Analyzing how he had screwed up wasn’t going to get him out of here. Wondering if the kid was safe and fretting like a preacher with an empty collection plate would be counterproductive. Only three things mattered. Getting out. Getting Chuck away. Putting a bullet between the eyes of Liam and that asshole Rudy who backstabbed the whole bunch of them.

Okay, that was four, if you counted each bullet.

Moonlight leaked in between the boards that were covering the window. The room became a series of blobs and smears, but he couldn’t make out anything useful. Still the same place. A few barrels he could never reach. Grimy floor. The blanket he had left for Chuck was gone, along with the bucket and flask. His stay here at Hotel Liam wasn’t going to be quite as plush as the kid had it.

Ah, hell. That was all his shoulder could take. As Casey began to rock, bracing himself to get on his back again, a noise sent a ripple of goose pimples down his arms.

Footsteps. Someone was on the stairs. He had a hunch whoever it was, they weren’t bringing up a late supper to tide him over.

Casey gritted his teeth and stared at the door, determined not to move or give in. In some part of his mind, he knew that there were probably a half dozen people in the house who would like to see him dead. A man could get impatient. Maybe just wanted to be the one to pull the trigger.

The steps closed in. Casey held his breath and tensed his legs. He could kick at least, though a headshot would end that right quick. A key scraped inside the lock, the door swung open.

Lifting his head, Casey squinted up at the silhouette and said the first thing that came to mind. “Aren’t you a little short for an outlaw?”

He anticipated some sort of ominous rejoinder to his misdeeds and why he was about to die.

He did not expect the person to hunch over him, draw a hand back, and slap the living shit out of his right cheek.

“Ow! Fuck!”

“You stubborn asshole,” the intruder said. “What the hell do you think you’re doing back here?”

-x- End Chapter Twenty-Six Sins Fell Angels-x-


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Seven

-x-

Was this her idea of a joke? Just leave him in here with the brooms and mops? Because it really was quite inconsiderate to keep him in the closet for a good twenty minutes after the men had departed. He had finished his freak out way before then.

When he finally heard the key in the lock, Chuck opened the supply closet door just an inch and peeked through the opening. He figured he had the right to be nervous, considering the news that he had come within a gnat’s wing of being nabbed at the station. More pressing, there was a pissed-off woman carrying a loaded rifle in the room he was getting ready to enter.

“They’re gone? I assume I can come out now?”

Sabine tipped her head towards the one brown eye she could see through the crack. “Yes, they are ... and no, you can’t.”

“Are you kidding?” Chuck put a hand on the door and pushed, but he couldn’t help but notice she stepped over to block the doorway. “No – as in no, I don’t get to leave the closet?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, this communication thing between us is not working,” Chuck said. “You see, when I say I want out, you’re supposed to get out of the way.” When he tried to open the door wide enough to squeeze past her, he felt the butt of the rifle against his stomach, holding him in place. “Would it be too much to ask you to be careful with that?”

“Stay.”

“You’re taking all the fun out of my first hide-out, you know that?”

“Turn around,” Sabine ordered.

“Why?” Chuck straightened the rumpled shirt they had given him, deep down trying to use his height to build up his place in the pecking order. He was still the only man here, wasn’t he? “I ... I’m not staying in there.” Lifting his chin, he added, “You need to listen to me ... woman.”

There. Sometimes the fairer sex needed to just be –

Sabine grunted. “Puppy has teeth?”

Chuck had a brief moment to be baffled before the butt of the gun went from his chest upward in a blur of motion, stopping a millimeter away from cracking his jaw. He did the only thing he could, which was to yelp and jerk backwards to knock his head into a shelf. “Ow! What the hell!”

Sabine steadied the butt of the rifle and pressed it under his chin to lift his face higher. Chuck went bug-eyed. “Did you have something to say, boy?”

“Sorry! Sorry!” His words were muffled by the gun holding his jaw.

“Oh, vous etes douce,” she murmured. Her eyes took on a wicked gleam of fun. “Your lover. He likes it ... very much when you put on that stubbornness, yes? I must admit, it’s quite adorable.”

Chuck felt his ears burning. Well, that confirmed one thing, at least. He still knew nothing about women. Oh, and he learned that flaunting his manhood around the fairer sex in this place – or anywhere - was probably not his brightest move.

“What I meant to say,” he began, putting up his hands very quickly, “is that I can’t stay in here because ... well, have you ever heard of claustrophobia? See, I hate tight spaces. Of any kind, really. Tunnels, cellars, windowless rooms. Heck, when I was eight, I hid in my mother’s blanket chest to get away from my sister when she wanted to practice putting a sling on my arm, and I nearly -”

“That’s not precisely where you’re staying,” Sabine said once she’d stopped chuckling.

“Oh. Well.” Chuck wished he had room to back up a prudent step. He really wanted to put some distance between the rifle and his face. “Then why am I still in the closet?”

“Because you’re staying here.” Sabine reached around him, felt for a hidden catch against the back wall, and a small door swung open. “This will be your home for a few days. Until John returns.”

Chuck blinked. “Wow. A secret passageway ....” Undeniably, the dime-novel part of him lit up at the thought. “Where does it lead to?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Sabine said. Lowering the rifle, she gave him a little nudge. “You’ll have to watch your head, kid. Casey knocked his more than once when he was here.”

“Casey stayed up there?” Up, because behind the door, he could make out a narrow staircase that dissolved into darkness near the top.

“Yes. I’ll get the lamp.” Sabine returned a moment later holding a kerosene lantern and motioned at him to lead the way. “Let’s go.” When he didn’t immediately move, she simply pushed the door open a bit wider and shoved Chuck through.

Chuck, having no desire to smack his forehead on the low frame, remembered to stoop at the last second. “But what is it?” he asked. “I mean, we are still technically in a brothel, aren’t we? And wouldn’t the upstairs of said brothel include rooms that could be considered, um, temporary accommodations for clients?”

“Does he let you chatter,” Sabine asked, prodding him in the back to get him to climb the stairs, “or does he find devious ways to shut you up?”

Chuck frowned but took the hint to shut up. By the time he reached the upper landing, he was too busy staring anyway. The lantern swinging in her hand pooled light around them, giving the room a warm glow and bouncing shadows against the walls.

“I trust you’ll be comfortable here?” she continued. Her eyes traveled around the room before they cut to him. “If it helps, your boyfriend certainly didn’t mind it.”

“I can see why.” Chuck swiveled his head to check out the double-sized bed covered in a quilt with fluffy pillows. He wasn’t quite feeling shy, but he didn’t expect to be stashed in a room that seemed as homey to him as this one did.

Chuck’s temporary shelter ended up being an attic, which had been fitted into a guestroom. It didn’t look at all like a hide-out for runaway kids from Boston, or outlaws for that matter.

“Extra blankets are in the cupboard over there.” Sabine motioned, thankfully not with the rifle. “You’ll find some soap, a razor, and cloths at the washstand in the corner. Chamber pot, too. I suggest you use it during broad daylight and keep out of sight.”

Chuck turned around under the peaked roof and its rafters just over his head but didn’t sit on the bed. “This is not what I thought was up here,” he said, and then flushed when Sabine turned to him with an arched brow. “No offense. I only meant –you see, I thought that maybe –”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered, Mr. Bartowski. Has John ever told you that?”

“Cute? I – I’m sure Casey’s brain would implode if he ever used that word.” Chuck looked around again and turned to her. It occurred to him he had yet to use her given first name, yet that’d be a rather impolite way to address a woman he had just met. Even one as well-armed as this one seemed to be. “Thank you, uh, M-ma’am, for letting me stay here.”

Sabine looked less than thrilled at his manners. “I can tell you have a grandiose Yankee upbringing, boy, but you’ll call me Sabine from here on out.” She paused to give him a brief look, a business-like sizing up and down. “Unless you decide to come work for me, and then you can call me Madame.”

“I’m not sure which one of us he would shoot first.”

“Oh, trust me, it would be me,” Sabine answered, coy. “He’d wait and give you your lesson later. In private.”

Chuck gulped. Mostly at how true that was. “So ... this is all there is to my living quarters? There’s no ... well, I don’t see another doorway or secret entrance that would let anyone ....” He trailed off, not certain he could even say ‘peruse the more masculine wares that are decidedly off limits.’

“Can a customer get in here?” Sabine asked, obviously enjoying the way he was squirming. Great, yet another Casey-like trait. “Certains voudraient que, trop... Heh.”

“Yes. That’s it,” Chuck said, ignoring the French since he didn’t even want to know what was making her smile. “Can they?”

Sabine’s smirk spread. “Don’t worry your sweet little head, kid. This attic only extends over the parlor. No one even knows it’s here. The only way to enter is through the closet doorway.” A knock on the wall opposite of the bed caused both of them to look over. Sabine shrugged. “One of the bedrooms is on the other side of that wall.”

“Oh, yippee.” Chuck winced and roughly stuffed his hands in his pockets. Correction: the pockets of the unfortunate bastard who had left his pants at a whorehouse.

“I’m afraid you may hear a few ... distracting noises from time to time. You may need to cover your ears – unless you like that sort of thing?”

“What ... thing?”

“Voyeu – you know what. Never mind.”

Chuck suffered the indignity with a sigh. God, there were other things Casey didn’t tell him ... or show him? “You wouldn’t happen to have any extra pillows? I have excellent hearing.”

Apparently, he had said something humorous. When Sabine stopped shaking her head and chuckling, she crossed the attic towards the stairs, her green silk skirt rustling. “I don’t want you to feel like a prisoner here, Chuck. The kitchen and keeping room where you came in are part of my personal quarters – and off limits to everyone else but Luciana.”

“I kind of remember what happened before I knew that.”

She gave another pert little shrug, like it was everyday she had the chance to shove a gun in someone’s face. “But as long as you’re here, feel free to come down and sit by the fire, join us for meals, draw in your leettle books ... but whatever you do, you may want to stay clear of the other part of the house.”

“They’re schematics, actually,” Chuck pointed out, barely hiding a scowl. “Engineering designs for ... well ... anyway, trust me, I don’t plan on going anywhere near the other rooms beyond that doorway in the kitchen.”

Uh-oh. Why did that sound like famous last words?

“Unfortunately, stepping outside,” Sabine said, “even in the garden wouldn’t be –”

The rest of her advice was drowned out by a squeal and a groan through the wall.

Hearing the noise, Chuck turned pale. “Oh, no,” he finally said.

“Ah. Good.” Sabine deliberately made a rude gesture with her hands, heaping on to Chuck’s discomfort. “Sounds like Mr. Crawford is ... wrapping up his business. I need to get back to the front parlor. Line up the next customer, as it were.”

“I ... I understand.” No. No, he did not. Chuck was already moving farther away from that wall.

“You’ll be okay here for tonight?”

“Uh, s-sure.” Chuck rocked on his bare feet, managing to plaster a smile on his face. “I’ll be fine.”

“Excellent. Your things should be dry by morning.” Sabine nodded back at him, just once on the way towards the stairs. “Try to get some rest. You’ll need it when your boyfriend gets back.”

Chuck started to agree, thought about the evil smile he saw, and ended up scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Sabine. Wait,” he said after she turned again. “One more thing.”

“What is it?”

“Those men outside.”

“What about them?”

“Come on, I heard everything.”

“So?”

“So? I’m an idiot, okay? I was followed somehow and I didn’t even know it.” Chuck leaned a hip against the bed post and looked away, out the window. “They said they’re coming back. Maybe with the sheriff. I heard them tell you they’re going to find a way to search this place top to bottom. As in ... maybe finding this room ... me.”

“I guess you were listening.” Sabine’s tone held a warning note. “What is your point?”

Chuck had to blink at her mule headedness. “It’s too dangerous for you, Sabine. What if they come back? What if they do search the house? You can’t take a risk like that.” He wet his lips. His next words came out in a rush. “I should go. I know you’re in my corner, and I appreciate the offer and all to stay here, but I can’t do it. I can’t just sit here, knowing I’m bringing the sheriff and god knows who else through the front door to -”

“That’s quite enough.” Sabine stayed where she was, crossing her arms while she studied him. “Sweet, noble, and brave,” she said. “Quite a combination, kid. No wonder you did in a killer.”

“What – what does that even mean?”

“You’re safe here. I’m not going to be the one who gets John Casey’s new boy-toy killed.”

“I highly resent being referred to as his boy-toy.” Chuck straightened until he almost bumped his head on one of the rafters.

“Careful. You let me worry about interlopers, and you worry about staying clear of the customers.” She was silent for a second. “Especially a certain Mr. Magnus.”

“Magnus?”

“Yes, he has a thing for ... and you’d be just the ... well, never mind.” Sabine rolled her eyes at the shocked look on his face. “Good night.”

Chuck swallowed hard and watched her disappear down the stairs. No way was he leaving this room until Casey came through that door.

-x-

“Not the greeting I expected,” Casey said, grunting. Flat on his back, he had to squint up in the dark, only able to make out the vaguest silhouette. “Though it’s a good thing you still hit like a girl.”

“I was just getting warmed up, ya know. I’m getting ready to give it a second shot.”

“Yeah?” Casey snorted and lifted his head off the rock-hard floor. “Give it a little more backhand this time. Bend at the elbow. Not like a windmill. When you smack someone, even with your open palm, you want them to know it.” It wasn’t that his cheek wasn’t ringing, however. It was just that his arms, being pinned under his body with his hands tied, hurt enough to negate the pain on his cheek. “And if I would’ve been able to see you, I bet you announced it like a telegraph wire. Heh.”

“Don’t make me wish I’d use my pistol, John Casey. I have it right here.”

“Wanna take a shot? You always flinched a bit, but that was to be expected, I reckon,” Casey said, moving his shoulders. “Towards the end, you were learning to compensate for it. Still, you could use more practice.”

“You really think I could miss you from here?” The tiny room was dark, so Casey had to only guess that that was the muzzle of a gun on his temple.

Hell, even the kid couldn’t miss from here.

What had always passed as flippant banter between them abruptly ended now that she had put a gun to his head. All right. So she’s pissed. “You shouldn’t be here,” was all she said.

“Neither should you,” Casey said. “Get out.”

The disgust so plainly evident in the voice sent a warning to him to brace his head. “You – you damn idiot!”

Casey made a fist under him, waiting, and he was right about pissing off someone. The belt to the jaw was still open palmed, but it hardly mattered. Stars flickered in front of his eyes. He felt twin spurts of annoyance and immediately regretting giving advice on how to clout a man.

“The money, is that it? You risked everything to come back here for the money. Puh.”

“It’s more than that, and you know it, Jo.”

The woman leaned over him, sending her auburn hair, usually in a tight bun, cascading in long wisps around her face. He kept his eyes focused on her features as they began to filter through the dark. Pale skin, worry lines creasing her forehead. She wore nothing more than a thin, blue cotton nightgown underneath a plaid coat. “Where’s the boy?” she asked, sneering. “Don’t tell me you screwed it up with him. Did you lose him?”

As much as Casey wanted to tell her to go fuck herself for that, he clenched his jaw for a few seconds. The honest answer made his insides go still, along with his entire body. He pushed it back down. “Little hard to misplace something that tall and gangly, isn’t it?” Something with flesh that smooth and hard ... tangly curls, warm brown eyes -

“What does that mean?”

“The kid is fine.”

“Really,” Jo snapped back at him. “Doesn’t seem that way, now, does it, John? You left with him. Now you’re back. Alone. Honest answer: where is he?”

Casey fell silent. Any other time, he’d use the typical avoidance tactics, but being on his back with his wrists bound meant he was trapped until he answered. “Do you really think I’d lose something like that?” he growled.

“You have before.”

“Maybe it didn’t matter before.”

“And now it does?”

Casey bit down on the inside of his mouth. That was already more than he ever though he’d admit.

Something grabbed the front of his shirt. Casey grunted as her hand twisted in it, pushing him down cruelly into the floor boards. Jo knelt in front of him, anger and impatience now all plain on her face. “Good boy, John. You’re learning. I might let you out of this yet.”

“Might? Why don’t you run along, Jo?” Casey jerked his shoulders and turned his head. “Sure as hell don’t have to hear this.”

“Shut up. The way I see, you don’t have a choice.” Half of her face pulled into a smirk. “Got something right for once, didn’t you, Johnnie? That boy. Don’t know how it happened, but it makes you all rickety inside knowing it took some of you away.”

“Christ, why don’t you just pull the trigger, woman,” Casey said. He’d always liked Black Rock’s caretaker for her spunkiness and smarts, but right now he wanted to jab her with the blade hidden in his belt. If only he could reach it.

“Not like you to feel unsure,” Jo went on. “It’s not letting go, is it?”

“Is that why you came out here, Josephine? Tell me that I screwed up?”

“You didn’t screw up by falling for that kid, you giant ass,” she said, lowering her face to lock her gaze with his. “You screwed up by leaving him to come back here.”

Casey forced a laugh. “What do you want? You can see, I’m kind of busy here, so if you’re done yapping about -”

“Where’s the kid?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. He wished there was moonlight leaking into the room, because if there was ever a time he needed to read another person’s face, now was it. What if Liam sent her in here as the trusted confidante, only to get Casey to confirm a hunch? She was faithful in the past, but what if his boss got to her first?

“Why should I tell you?”

Jo brought up a hand. At first, Casey thought he was about to be cranked across the cheek again, but she merely pushed the hair out of her face and sighed. “Johnnie, I thought that boy might’ve taught you something.”

Casey’s head lolled back in a show of tired exasperation. “You gonna make a point eventually?”

“The point is trust, John. Did he teach you that? Because by God, look at you now.”

“Bored as hell with this conversation?”

Her hand landed on his shirt again, up by the collar. She squeezed her fingers together until the fabric dug into his neck. “You always were the most stubborn man who ever crossed my doorway. Even now, tied up in a barn of a man who’s going to kill you. Well, your druthers are getting limited, laddie.”

“So?” Casey bit out.

“So if the kid were here, he’d tell you that you better take the one opportunity you have.”

Casey gave her a cursory look, put all his strength into a rocking motion, and startled her by sitting up. “I’m pretty certain you were listening to Liam earlier.” It was a risk, but he was running out of playing cards. “It is St. Louis.” He returned her hard stare, and frankly, he was better at it. “Now tell me why it’s important to you.”

“Because that’s part of the bargain if you want to get out of here. Alive, that is.”

“My preference, anyway,” Casey replied blandly, looking around his cell before returning his attention to her. “Why don’t you just come out and say what you want?”

“I’ll let you go,” Jo told him. “But only under one condition.”

“Yeah, and what would that be?”

“Stop being coy with me, Johnnie. It wasn’t just the money. We both know you plan on killing Liam. Just try to look me in the eyes and tell me your next stop wasn’t Canon City.”

“Never knew you to be afraid of a little blood.”

“You might do yourself a favor by remembering that I’m not.” Jo took hold of his shirt sleeve and tipped her head towards the window, beyond that the meadow. “Maybe you forgot, but I was the one who helped you bury those two skunks who had ... ill-intentions towards the boy. Wanted to use him when they got on the road.”

“Where are you going with this, Jo?”

“Face up to it. Your old boss got a forewarning, and he showed up to turn your plans upside down.”

“Glad I got you here,” Casey muttered. “Needed someone to clear all that up.”

“You can’t kill him.”

“That’s your condition? Didn’t know you had such a fondness for the black heart.”

Jo let go of his shirt. As soon as she did, Casey scooted backwards until his shoulders rested against a barrel. It was some relief, though his hands were still tingling.

“That’s not where my fondness lies, Johnnie, and you damn well know it.”

He did. He wasn’t that hollow not to know. Signs had always been there. Little things. A hand on his waist when he stood close, another time touching his hair, accidently walking into his room when he knew she could hear him filling the damn bathtub or washing himself. Even the way she playfully swatted him with her wooden spoon as he strayed too close to a pot before dinner, then collecting a flirty and familiar squeeze on his ass as payment. All this time, Casey only teased her about it, since they both knew the way his affections swayed.

So he kept his mouth shut and waited for her to explain.

“You have to promise to leave,” Jo said, rocking up to her feet to stand over him. “Go back to that kid. Leave tonight. Do not even think of trying to do what you came here to do.”

“You’re giving me an ultimatum.” Casey let out a snort on principle alone. “You want me to run.”

“I have some news for you, laddie, and for once you’re going to listen. There are a dozen men inside the house, each one itching to kill you.” Jo clutched the coat closer against the cold. “But not one of them more than Liam. He’ll do exactly as he threatened – you ... the kid ....”

He tilted his head to give her an accusing look. “You were listening.”

“I was,” Jo said. “Promise me that if I let you go, you’ll turn around and run. Maybe for the first time in your life.” Walking over to the window, still boarded up, she peered through the crack towards the house. “You can’t win this one, John. They’ll kill you ... him, too. Are you willing to take that risk?”

Casey shifted his back and stared straight ahead. He didn’t feel anything but the throbbing aches that had become his head and his chest. Blaming the kid for putting some of the aches there would be best saved for later. He only knew that if he didn’t comply, Chuck was as good as dead. “I’ll leave,” he said at last. Hardest damn words he ever had to spit out. “Cut the damn ropes, will you?”

A knife that Jo had hidden in her jacket was proffered, and when she came around him, the ropes fell away. “And I mean now, damn you,” she said. “This is taking too long.”

“Ah, hell.” Mercifully, Casey could pull his arms in front of his body, and circulation returned to his hands. He grabbed the knife from her and sawed away the ropes around his ankles. “What else have you heard that I should know?”

“He ... he’s not lying about having spies in St. Louis. He’s expecting a telegram by tomorrow with news ....”

“Shit,” Casey said between teeth. “Have they found Vic?”

“They were going to wait until morning. Search up the canyon to see where you had her stashed.”

Casey climbed to his feet. Too quickly. A spear of pain from the blow he had taken to the head made him sway. “Jo – I -”

“Easy, John.” Jo took his arm to steady him. Her hands were ice-cold. “No time for long good-byes. But ... I have one more thing for you.”

“You forget I hate surprises?”

Without answering, she disappeared around the corner and returned a moment later holding a burlap bag. “You’re going to need this.”

Casey’s brows rose. “The money?”

“Your Colt, too. Liam left it all in the dining room hutch.” Jo shrugged, though Casey could see a hint of a smile at her triumph. “Thought you and the kid could use it for your journey.”

Casey studied the sack and ran a hand through his hair. “Jo ... this was dangerous enough already. Now it’s not just serious for me. For you, too.”

“Can’t leave it with him,” Jo said, waving a hand at the bag. “Take it.”

Casey walked over to stand in front of the woman, and when Jo lifted her head to look at him, he placed two heavy hands on her shoulders. “I have a condition as well. You have to agree to it.”

“How could I agree to something that I -”

“You’re taking part of the money ... and leaving, too, Jo.”

“What? I can’t do that.”

Casey’s hands tightened on her shoulders. “He’s going to figure it out. You’ve managed to stay out of his bull’s eye up until now, but ... this is too much. Liam’s a shrewd bastard. Eventually, he’ll untangle the riddle, and when he does ....”

Jo moved her shoulders, dislodging his hands, and her eyes cut over to the window. She paced a few feet away and back. Casey watched her face carefully for clues about when he may have to just force her over his back if she didn’t do as he said.

But finally, she shook her head and met his eyes squarely. “Okay,” she said. “Maybe it’s my time, too.”

“Take this.” Casey reached into the bag blindly, fished out a stack of bills a few inches tall – ten grand, twenty? - and shoved it into her coat pocket. “That’ll keep you from having to beg on the street corners, eh?” he said, trying to infuse humor where there was none. “I’ll bring you into town. You can get on the train ... wherever you want to go.”

Jo looked down towards her bulging pocket, and Casey felt her place her hand on his chest, rumpling his dirty shirt. She clenched her fingertips until they dug into his flesh, and somehow right then he knew tonight would be the last time he’d see her. “Wish things were different, Johnnie,” she said, giving him a sad smile. “But if it has to be this way, at least you found do chroi.”

Casey rolled his eyes and gave her a firm push towards the door. Hell, she didn’t even know what a pain in the ass she was. “Stop yapping and get going, woman. Before we get unwanted company.”

Besides, he understood Gaelic, and the last thing he wanted to hear was some sappy bullshit about how he had finally found his heart ... in a willful kid with a smile like evening sunshine, lopsided and real. Raw-boned physique, tender mouth, muscles that trembled when he touched him -

Christ, he already knew that. Sometimes, there was no explaining God’s sense of humor when it came to the things that pulled hard pull in your chest. Sometimes a man just had to answer it.

-x-

Sabine stormed into the kitchen like an angry bull, reminding the kid why he had made a rule of staying clear of them. Her scowl was so intense that Chuck immediately dropped his fork and shot out of his chair. She looked over at him and didn’t comment on the jolt she had caused. Instead, she slapped a brass box on the kitchen table so hard that Chuck jumped again. “That son of a bitch. La tricherie devil! He will never show his face here again!”

Chuck backed up until his butt hit the stove. Crap! Now Casey has trapped him with a woman spitting bullets? This was way out of his area of expertise. “If any of that was directed at me, can I apologize and just say that I’ve only been here two days and still trying to get used to ... well, not sleeping at night?”

Even a pillow over his head wasn’t cutting it, the racket on the other side of the wall too exuberant to say the least, but the kid thought it would be impolite to request a different room. Or earplugs.

“Where’s my rifle?” Sabine spun on her heels so fast that she nearly knocked his book off the table. “Connard!”

“Whoa.” Chuck slithered past the stove and took another instinctive half-step back. “It was just an honest mistake, I’m sure.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Then it’s not me?”

“Non!”

“Okay, good,” Chuck said. “Just checking.”

“Ese hijo de puta mentira!” Luciana hissed as she burst through the doorway. “Bastard!”

“Man,” Chuck remarked, lifting his hands in surrender. Though he didn’t know curse words in Spanish or French, he did have an idea that in any language, the insults were directed at a man. And since he happened to be the only man standing in the kitchen at the moment, it could make him the targeted representative of his gender by default.

Again, crap.

“That dirty muleskinner!” Sabine added.

Now the kid did understand that much. His eyebrows went up. “Maybe I should go upstairs. It is a little crowded – and warm, very warm, don’t you think?”

“Sit down, boy,” Sabine said. “Finish your breakfast.”

“That’s fine. I’m actually full already –”

“Sit.”

“I guess I’ll sit.” Chuck rubbed the back of his neck and plopped into the chair. “Hotcakes, anyone? They only look burnt on the edges. Actually, they’re rather tasty ... if you take that part off.”

When Chuck dared to look up, he had both of the women glaring at him. It made his breakfast even less appetizing when they strode around the table and took a seat on either side of his. What was that all about?

“Menteur sale!”

“Mentiroso sucio!”

“Um, well, this is cozy, isn’t?” Chuck asked, slanting a look from one to the other.

“Only if you sit there and be quiet,” Luciana warned.

Chuck looked up at the ceiling rather than glare back at her. She could cut him a little slack, he wanted to say. The past two days being stashed in a rather noisy and boisterous whorehouse weren’t the easiest ones of his life. Not with Whistling Nellie on the other side of the wall. The woman sounded like a teapot on a hot stove, for crying out loud. Boiling over and over. And the bed frame ... hitting the wall. Smacking it again, and again -

“You okay, boy?” When Chuck’s head snapped up, he saw Sabine eyeing him. “You look peaked. Can’t have John seeing you like that. He’ll wonder what kept you up at night.”

“Can’t have that now, can we,” Chuck grumbled, rolling his eyes before finally just rubbing the sleep out of them. “I’m good. Really.”

Luciana swore a little more under her breath, bringing Sabine back to the matter of the brass box on the table. She flipped the lid open and gave Chuck a view of the contents. Stacks of bills lay nestled inside; gold and silver coins caught the light of the lamp. “Are you sure,” Sabine asked. “You counted it?”

“Twice. Three times, I counted it!” Luciana, her cheeks bright red even against her bronzed skin, folded one arm on the table and gestured with her other hand. “Cheated. That’s the only explanation. Lying bastards. They spend three times – the girls, they know, they don’t lie - pay for once. Ask for three girls, and pay for one -”

“- are you sure I should be here for this?” Chuck broke in helplessly, beginning to sweat. “Maybe I should -”

“-do they really think we’re idiots? Because we are women, they can take advantage of us?”

“Mr. Whithers. Puh. Wanting special favors done with his leettle –”

“Oh, no –” Chuck buried his head in his hands. “This is bad. I should most definitely not be -”

“Sneaking out the door while Nellie finds her dress to come downstairs,” Sabine said, still going on even though Chuck was now officially frozen in horror. “The girl then telling me he wanted to have his –”

“Please, no –”

“- and then whipped with his riding crop - without paying the price!”

“It is not the fault of the girls,” Luciana said. “It’s the men. They do this on purpose. They see you are busy introducing the girls to other customers ... getting the shy ones to make a selection - and poof. The cheap sons of a bitches hurry out with their pants still hanging on their -”

“Honestly? I’m done here. I surrender,” Chuck said to stop her there. Rising out of his chair, he rounded the table and headed for his supply closet/escape route. “This has been great, really, but I’m going to just head up the stairs and try to get some rest before tonight’s festivities begin.”

“If there was a way the girls could signal me somehow in the parlor ....” Sabine said, ignoring him altogether. “From their rooms ... as the men are leaving? A way I could calculate the price before they come down the stairs. Add any extra fees for their unusual requests?”

“Hmm. I could do that.”

The first and only indication to Chuck that he had been idiotic enough to speak up was that both women turned to him. Sabine raised her eyebrows, questioningly, while Luciana looked merely cynical. “Did you have something to add, Mr. Bartowski,” Sabine asked, closing the lid on the brass box. “A suggestion, perhaps?”

“Um, well.” Chuck forced himself to nod his head. “I ... it’s just that there would be a way to do it.”

Sabine squinted at him. “Sit down.”

“Thanks for the offer, but –”

“More like an order, boy.”

“Haven’t we had a talk about the ‘boy’ thing?” Chuck made air quotes at the rather undignified label. “I do have a name.”

“And I could take you in a fair fight. Where are you going?”

Chuck frowned, but seeing no choice, he slid back into his seat between them, shoulders hunched. “To finish the slightly charred hotcakes, I guess.” They had to pick up on the fact he was sweating, but the kid told himself he wasn’t the one who had stiffed the women. So why should he be nervous?

Okay, a thousand reasons came to mind.

“You have an idea.” Sabine’s skepticism alone made it a question.

“Well, yes.” Waffling for a moment, Chuck picked up his design book and opened it to a clean sheet. His slate pencil was still stuck in between the pages where he had been doodling an idea. “It’s something I saw when I was younger in a home we visited ....” He stalled, because how could he say this without sounding like a pretentious ass? “It was in Newport – though most people wouldn’t call them homes,” he added a bit self-consciously. “Mansions or castles are probably a more fitting description.”

“I’m aware of the ostentatious homes some families have built for themselves in the East, kid.”

“Then you must know about the communication system?”

“What does this have to do with liars and cheats?”

“Honestly, nothing. Except you could use the idea to solve your problem you have here at the, uh, ranch.” I can’t believe I’m about to do what I’m about to do, Chuck marveled, but at her blank look, he began to draw. “One thing I noticed when I stayed at Chateau-sur-Mer was that -”

“Chateau? Oh, la la.” The corners of Sabine’s mouth curled upward as she interrupted him mid-babble. “Mr. Bartowski pretends to be a poor farm boy from the country, but I believe he’s keeping secrets from us. I suppose you lived in a mansion yourself in Boston? Before you went to Harvard, that is. Any other secrets you want to share?”

I have something called the Cipher and I can control elements I shouldn’t control by flashing? Yeah. Not a chance.

“Only one. But it involves shellfish and my digestive system, so I don’t think you want to hear it.”

“Amusing, really.”

Chuck averted his eyes to the paper and continued sketching. “What I noticed when I was ... ah, staying there with my father for a while – it was one of his business trips – was that they had a mechanism to keep the servants near as invisible as possible.”

“Wouldn’t want the help sullying the pristine interiors now, would we?” Luciana said.

“Unfortunately, that’s exactly why the bell pull mechanism was invented,” Chuck confessed, glancing up uneasily. “It became, well, fashionable to have servants disappear into the woodwork – only appearing like magic when they were needed.”

“How is it that you know all of this?” Luciana asked, craning her neck to watch him draw. “Spent a lot of time in these palaces, farm boy?”

“Hardly at all,” Chuck lied. If no one counted the stately Georgian house he grew up in.

“Let him speak, Luciana,” Sabine said, looking down at the drawing with mild interest. “If he can help us .... What was so special about this chateau?”

“Nothing, unless you’re into gold-plated everything,” Chuck answered, “and a butler who made me call him Sir Jeeves.”

Sabine smiled curiously. “Nothing, huh. Sounds ... impressive.”

“Not to a nine-year old. Seriously, I think it gave me hives. But it did have one kind of nifty feature.”

The trip to Chateau-sur-Mer with his father was hazy at best. He had vague memories of gilded furniture, thick brocade curtains, and sparkling chandeliers. Boredom ate away at him while he listened to his father discuss business with Mr. Wetmore, though the kid had been warned to behave like the son of a wealthy industrialist. Chuck wasn’t even sure he knew what that meant, but climbing into the dumbwaiter to see if he fit – he didn’t – probably was not within those strict boundaries.

The mansion became much more interesting to a curious boy, however, when he found the bell pull system in the dining room. The servants were less than impressed when he kept testing it out, but eventually, one of the housekeepers explained how the pulley system worked.

“This design looks a bit like a spider web behind the wall, I know,” Chuck explained, tracing his pencil over the drawing, “but these are just wires and chains within the wall cavities and ceiling. See?”

“What are these?” Sabine asked.

Chuck cringed at how bad the sketch was, but he had a tendency to get excited. “The wire loops over the bells are different lengths. That way, when someone ... upstairs rings one, you’ll know who it was. You could set up a, uh, signal of sorts depending on the bell and the number – or a pattern, for that matter.”

“Such as for number of ... services? Or ... perhaps special amenities?”

“Oh, boy.” Chuck cleared his throat and felt that damn flush coming back. “I never knew those engineering courses would come in so handy at times like this.”

“You’d make your daddy proud, kid,” Sabine agreed, smirking at him. “So the ladies ... and my one gentleman would simply need to ..?”

“Pull on the chain. Like this,” Chuck said, adding to the sketch. “These pulls could be routed through the walls and, well, conveniently placed next to each ....”

“God, if you can’t say bed in a whorehouse, boy, I don’t know how John managed to lasso you and break you in. Did he have to tie you to the bed?”

“And on that happy note, I will take that nap I know I’m going to need.”

A hand, much stronger than he anticipated, reached out to grab his shirt. “Where do you think you’re going, kid?”

“What? I thought –”

“Luciana, our house guest is going to put together a list of supplies.”

“I am?” This was news to Chuck.

“Yes, you are.” Those sharp green eyes left no room for argument. With a nod, she put the pencil back in his hand and turned to the other woman. “Lu, I’ll need you to run down to Nelson’s hardware and pick up what he needs.”

“But – but wait a minute,” Chuck broke in. “You do realize that there is one insurmountable flaw with this plan?”

“What is it?”

“I - I would need to go up into the rooms to do this.”

“Brilliant deduction, kid.” Sabine picked up the notebook and slapped it to his chest, none too gently. “Start writing. Oh, and don’t worry your sweet little head about spending the afternoon with my girls.” She patted his cheek before he could pull back. “I’ll tell them to play nice.”

“Play nice?” Chuck nearly dropped the pencil. “Sounds ... ominous.”

“Mmm. They love shiny new toys, but I’ll let them know they can only borrow you for a few hours.” She twisted a lock of her hair as she contemplated – no, thoroughly relished - his ‘I’m freaking out’ expression. “And that they need to try and keep their hands off the pretty merchandise.”

“But – I’m beginning to think this wasn’t such a -”

“The list.”

Chuck swung around to face Lucania. “Do you know the French word for no?”

Luciana smiled. “Yeah. It’s called ‘move your ass’,” she said.

-x-

It was beyond weird to the kid that he was beginning to distinguish the cadence of events in this place, but he was. The evening’s business transactions always started around six o’clock, hit full force around eleven, and dwindled to the final ... grunts and groans around two-thirty or three in the morning.

Knowing this gave Chuck a bit of comfort, at least, figuring he would finish his work long before then and clear out of the upstairs.

It was just a matter of getting started. That was the tough part. Luciana took forever to get back with the supplies. Then he had to inventory every wire, bell, and hook because he didn’t want to be dawdling upstairs.

All of these preliminary actions still weren’t what burned his time. That came in the form of pacing up and down the hallway in front of the closed doors, preparing to knock, stopping to listen, raising his hand again – the room was probably empty, right?

Idiot. Just get it over with.

Giving himself one more pep talk, feeling nerves cluster in his stomach, Chuck slung the tool sack over his shoulder and knocked on the first door. It was less than a minute, but seemed like eons while he waited in the corridor before he felt confidence there was no one inside. Only then did he get to work.

Surprisingly, the first few boudoirs he had entered were empty – thank you, God –surrounding him only with sheer gowns hung from hooks, smelling like fresh soap and perfume, plush chairs, and beds much larger than the one in his attic. Music came from a phonograph set up in the parlor at the bottom of the stairs. In the daylight, the upstairs didn’t seem to be the scary pit of Dante’s Inferno he had imagined.

By the time he reached the fourth bedroom, the kid was getting the hang of the system of pulleys. It was only a matter of finding an inconspicuous place behind the headboards where a woman could reach and pull on the wire. Carving out a small pocket in the wall was easy enough. Running the wires proved a bit more troublesome. Tiny holes had to be drilled through the walls, and as luck would have it, he ran into floor joists that required a little muscle.

“Okay, time to test it out,” Chuck said under his breath. When he found Luciana in the kitchen, he asked her to go up to first room and give the wire behind the headboard a pull. If it worked, he would feel a tug behind the panel at Sabine’s desk in the parlor.

There it was. Chuck squared his shoulders a bit as she came down the stairs, unable to repress a grin at his handiwork. Not bad. He’d install the row of small brass bells last, once he had all the wiring complete, but so far, this wasn’t a complete screw-up.

“Stop being a giant peacock, boy, and get up the stairs,” Luciana said, noticing the swagger. “Two more rooms to go before the first clients of the night arrive. Unless you want to be here for that?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Why not? Still say a pretty boy like you might be able to earn a few dollars.”

“Generous offer,” Chuck mumbled, “but not for sale, remember?” He wasn’t certain what was more insulting. The insinuation, or the hearty slap to his ass she helped herself to when he passed by. The dirty chuckle rising behind him only made him take the stairs two at time.

Still being cautious, Chuck strolled down the hall to the next room in line and put his ear to the door. It was quiet, at least. “Come on,” he whispered, “let’s get this over with.” He lifted a hand and knocked. Still nothing.

Whew.

Chuck pushed the door open and walked inside, holding the sack tightly. The room was larger than the others, and the kid didn’t even want to think about how one earned their way up the pecking order around here to net better quarters.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he told himself.

The only way to get to the wall was to climb over the top of the bed, which he did with only one look over his shoulder. Reaching behind the headboard, he took his hand drill out of the sack. It was cumbersome to turn the handle in such a confined space, but he managed to get a hole big enough to fish the wire through.

“Almost there ...,” Chuck said, straining to feel for anything in the way. “Okay. Huh. This one actually went better than I -”

“Well, what have we here,” came a sultry voice from the doorway. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“What? Ah! Ouch,” Chuck yelped, rubbing his head where he had just smacked it into the bedpost. He wondered how this could be more awkward, until he dropped the drill behind the bed. Okay, that was his answer. “Dang it!”

“I beg your pardon ... boy?”

Chuck took only a half second to stare down forlornly where his drill had disappeared before he looked up, wide-eyed, and gave the woman a little wave. “Um. Hello to you, too.”

“How’s your head?” she asked. Oh, no. To Chuck’s dismay, she closed the door behind her. “You knocked it pretty good there.”

“My? Oh. That? That was nothing. I’ve done worse.” The kid knee-walked over her bed and jumped off on the opposite side where she stood. “Much worse. Overall with um, head injuries.” He trailed off, silently speculating if he was flexible enough to jump out the window, shimmy down the rose trellis, and high tail it out of there. Probably not.

The woman just crossed her arms over a very thin frock and tilted her head at him. “Well, aren’t you cute,” she murmured to herself, sauntering past the end of the bed.

Her panther-like approach gave Chuck a minute to assess the occupant of the boudoir. The young lady was short and slender, and should not at all be as horrifyingly intimidating as she was. Her bright blue eyes stood out against pale skin. Chuck’s gaze got stuck on her white-blonde hair, a shade that didn’t look like it could be real. The kid had only heard of women who dyed their hair, but never figured he’d meet one. Especially in these circumstances.

“I’m surprised Sabine let you in this early,” she said. “We usually don’t expect visitors until after dinner. You must be ... eager?”

“Who me? Not – not at all.”

“Oh?” Maybe he imagined it, but her eyes seemed to linger over every inch of him, giving him a vision of a wild animal, waiting to devour. “Then you must be new at this, because if you weren’t, you’d be eager, all right. Ever sleep with a woman?”

“No!” Oh God! When his brain caught up, Chuck hastily cleared his throat. “What – what I meant by that was -”

“Really .... Inexperienced? Oh, aren’t you going to be a treat,” she cooed, her hips swaying as she took a few more steps closer. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Some of the girls don’t care for virgins – a little too fumbly and quick to draw, know what I mean? - but I don’t mind making a man out of a boy. I have to say, you’re one of the shyest, though.” She winked. “Cutest, too. Huh. How tall are you?”

“I - six-four, I guess? Listen, I have a - a friend who is also quite tall.”

“Is he here?” She raised her eyebrows and looked around. “It’d be a little unusual to have a two-fer like this, especially on the first go at it, but, hey, I’m game. Is he shyer than you?”

“No, he’s – ah -”

“I’m Nellie, by the way,” she interrupted. Now that she had stepped firmly into his personal space, Nellie smashed down that barrier even further by placing a hand on his shirt, warm and nestled at the V of his collar. Finding bare skin, she brushed her thumb as low as she could go before the buttons got in the way. “Unless you’d prefer to call me something else?”

Nellie? Oh, shit. Whistling Nellie. The Human Teapot. “I’m ... Chuck.”

“Chuck? Mmm. You look a little nervous, sweetmeat. Why don’t you try to relax? Here.” The fingers on his shirt began plucking away at the buttons. “Let me get rid of this for you.”

“Oh, no, you can’t do that,” Chuck told her, backing up until his hip hit the night table.

“All right. I’ll start with mine, then.” Without so much as a twitch, Nellie slipped the thin white nightgown over her shoulders, down her hips and thighs until it lay pooled at her feet. “Is that better?”

Chuck’s hands tightened into fists. Before he could stop it, he glanced over at her and felt every higher function of his brain leave him. Yep, she was naked all right. It was probably a useless measure to try and eke past her without touching – or to breathe at this point – so he darted his eyes to the ceiling and prayed for the floor to open up and suck him in. “I – I just have a quick job to do,” he explained.

“Honestly, honey, you shouldn’t look at it that way. Well, granted the first time it may be quick – but not a job. Not if you’re doing it right.” Her hand came up to work on his buttons again, and to Chuck’s bewilderment, the shirt was half undone before he could stutter out another syllable. Obviously, Nellie had a lot of practice at this. “I promise to go easy on you since it’s your first time and all ... unless you’d like to start off with something a little more daring, darling?”

“Daring – uh, no,” Chuck stammered. “Listen, I should probably just –”

“Wait a minute,” Nellie said, getting up on her tiptoes. “Have you even kissed a girl before?”

“No –”

“Oh, hells bells, Sabine,” she said, giving him a puzzled happy smile. “What in damnation have you gotten me into?”

“Um, nothing, I swear.”

“It’ll be more than nothing, boy. Promise. Just hold still so I can get your shirt off.”

Chuck figured his best defense was to fold his arms over his chest. “You’re – you are not listening.”

“Okay, I guess that means we’ll move on to the pants,” Nellie said. He blinked stupidly at her when he felt her fingers slide under the waistband in front. “Did they let you ring the bell at the Prairie Dew?”

Someone else did, he almost let slip out. “I have to get out of here,” Chuck blurted, peeling her fingers off his pants and handing them back to her. The hurt look almost made him feel badly for her. Almost. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“I can change it back, can’t I?” she said, cupping a hand on him in a place that was decidedly reserved for a much larger hand. “Are you ... up for it?”

“Ah – easy, now. Gah. That’s my ....” Abort mission!

Chuck pushed himself back until he was almost sprawled on the night table. Well, that did it. The kerosene lamp toppled over and came crashing down to the floor. It created the perfect diversion, and the kid knew he had only a precious second or two before he was felt up again like a human banana. So he bent down to reach under the bed, grabbed his hand drill, and tossed it in his sack. “I’ll finish the job later, okay?”

“Honey, hate to tell you how this works, but you haven’t started.” She slid her hand around him, cupped him again in a firm grip. Squeezed. “Humph. You have nothing to be embarrassed about, kid.”

“Oh, God.” Chuck attempted to swat her hand away. “Please can I have that back?”

“This?”

“Hey! Uncle!”

“Who? Is that your tall friend?”

Okay, being semi-polite wasn’t quite working.

“That’s it. Time’s up!” His movements clumsy yet quick, Chuck leapt onto the bed, jumped off the other side, and busted out of there as fast as his feet would carry him.

“Wait, sweet stuff,” Nellie called after him. “Didn’t they tell you? There’s more to it than that!”

-x-

“Casey, you are so dead meat for this,” Chuck said, shoving a hand through his hair and glaring. He would forever wonder how that woman got his shirt untucked faster than even his boyfriend could do it. “Okay, concentrate. Get the job done, and I will never have to step foot up here again.”

Chuck focused his attention to the left, from where he had just fled, and to the right where there were still bedrooms that needed to be tackled.

Now that was strange. Why had Luciana said only two rooms remaining? Nellie’s was almost wired and ready for ... action, but when he scanned the hallway, Chuck could plainly see there were still two more doorways. What was behind the last door?

He found himself actually feeling sorry for the woman, whoever she was, that had been given the bedroom at the very end of the hallway. Tucked under a staircase, it was in a darker and dingier part of the upper level, lacking windows or even pictures on the walls. Honestly, up until now, the corridor and bedrooms seemed almost opulent. Red velvet drapes, pink silk bedding – not that he had touched it too much – mirrored armoires and thick carpets on the floor. But this? He hated to even speculate why this room was so different than the others.

Well, he might as well get it over with. Chuck ambled slowly down the hallway into the gloomier nook, checking over his shoulder when he arrived in front of the door. “Hello?” He swallowed. “Is anyone in there?”

Again, there was no answer, only quiet. Even the music from the phonograph was barely audible in these darkened reaches of the house. Why would Sabine shove one of her girls in a place like this? No answer came to mind, but for some reason, he felt a cold seize his neck and arms.

“Hello?” he repeated, and this time he knocked. Thirty seconds slogged by while Chuck dithered outside the door, but he figured now or never. “Stop being an idiot,” he mumbled, hearing Casey’s voice. “You told them your idea would work.”

Chuck swung the door open and peered into the room, one hand on the doorknob. The only window was covered by a blanket that had been tacked to the wall, wan light seeping out around its edges and bathing the cramped space in eerie shadows. A small bed was shoved up against one wall with a washstand next to it. Other than that, the room was empty.

Oh. Except for the woman who had been hiding in the dark behind the door.

“My – sorry! So sorry to barge in.” He had no choice but to stumble forward through the open door. “I thought the bedroom was unoccupied at the moment and I was only trying to ... get behind the, uh, headboard for a minute.”

The stranger made no reply. She merely shut the door behind Chuck, her movements mechanical, her head bowed to cover her face. When she expertly side-stepped around him, a flash caught his eye. Something in her hand glinted.

A Bowie knife. Not unlike the one preferred by his own partner.

In an instant, Chuck forgot about the sack of tools and wire, and wondered what he had done to this woman to make her want to kill him. A bizarre thought crossed his mind, that this was one powerful ugly creature back here, and she didn’t want to be found.

But when he felt icy, hard steel pressed to his throat, the kid pushed aside everything else.

“If your hand touches metal, boy, I swear by my pretty floral bonnet I will end you.”

-x- End Chapter Twenty-Seven Sins Fell Angels-x-


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Eight

-x-

It would figure that the second something that icily cold, hard, and sharp was pressed to his throat, Chuck would have the urge to swallow. He forced himself not to do it. Too dangerous, considering the more he flailed an arm out in surrender, the tighter the edge of the knife was pressed against his throat.

“Easy, boy,” the voice hissed against his ear. “Don’t want my hand to slip, do you?”

“N-no, we wouldn’t want that – ah.”

An arm, stronger than Chuck ever expected, snaked around his middle, pinning his own arms down by the elbows. Crap, there went his only defense mechanism, though no great loss. The whole thrashing and squirming move wasn’t getting him too far in the first place.

“Not a sound out of you, hear me?”

“I don’t think I should be here,” Chuck blurted anyway. “I was only trying to help Sabine with a job – not get in anyone’s way, okay? So, if you would just kindly remove the – is that a Bowie knife? - from my neck and let go of me, I promise I’ll just back out the doorway and you’ll never hear from me again - ouch!”

“Do you remember me sayin’ not a sound,” his captor asked, hauling him to the center of the room, “or was that too much for your addled brain, kid? Now, I’m telling you all nice like to shut your pie eater, or we’ll just have to get some blood on that pretty blue shirt of yours.”

“Do you have any idea how sharp that is?” Was his voice normally that high-pitched? Do something, he could hear Casey tell him, so death threat or not, Chuck’s instincts forced him to struggle, anything to get out of the knife wielder’s grip. “Me, I’m nobody. Just let me go!”

He let loose with an elbow.

Nothing happened.

Great, only he would stumble into the lair of an angry bear-woman.

“Is there some connection between your brain and your mouth that’s haywire? I said shut the hell up.”

She had a valid point. That knife wasn’t going anywhere. Now, after a minute of being threatened and restrained, Chuck tentatively stopped wriggling his limbs in order to let something seep into his brain that should’ve already.

Were women’s voices ever that low-pitched?

If only Chuck could angle around to face her, maybe he could use his God-given charm – and true to be told, panicked brown eyes – to convince the squatter to move her damn arm.

The giant she-man had other ideas. The hold around his middle tightened until he swore he felt one of his last breaths leave his lungs. Really, God, who came up with the plan to die in the seedy back room of a whorehouse? All right, so maybe it was a fairly classy bordello, but still. After everything they had been through?

Chuck attempted to slant his head, needing to get a good look at his would-be killer – his life seemed to packed with enough of those lately - but the brute of a female, sensing he would try to get an eyeful of her, dug the knife in before he could so much as twitch.

“Nuh-uh. Wouldn’t do that, kid, if you want to keep that half-empty head where it is.”

“Ow! L-listen, if you just let me get Sabine, she’ll explain everything. She’ll tell you not to bother with me.”

The she-man actually laughed. “Either you are the skinniest, most stupefied baichi in the city, or ....” and the stranger paused to pick her words carefully, “you’re a new boy here who doesn’t quite understand how this works yet.”

“New boy? Me?” Chuck wrinkled his nose at first, wondering what she meant, and gaped when it hit him like a brick. “Uh, no. Nothing like that. I’m, uh, most definitely not looking for anything tonight. Off limits. In fact, if you - if you keep that knife where it is ... or try to – well, I know someone who’s going to be awfully angry.”

“Try to what?”

“I hate to point out the obvious,” Chuck began, getting really tired of the knife, “but we are in a brothel, aren’t we? Alone in a bedroom – and you seemed to be waiting for someone?”

“Not trying to sell anything to you, kid.” A hint of amusement mingled with the derision.

“You’re not?”

“Not that you don’t have pretty eyes and all. In fact ... if it’s any consolation ... I can see where some men would find you a right pretty catch.”

Chuck blinked. Pretty? What the hell? He tried to swing around on her again. “You know, I’m certain she’s right there -”

“Sure. They’d wanna buy you nice things. Bet you’d like that if’n you’d be around tomorrow to enjoy yourself, kid.”

“What? – ow!” The knife jammed a little harder into Chuck’s neck. He all but whimpered. “Can – can we talk about this?”

“You can talk without a windpipe? Now there’s a talent I bet you’re right proud of.”

“You should know that I get a little woozy at the sight of blood,” Chuck felt compelled to tell the she-bear. Glancing down and half expecting to see a dribble of crimson on his shirt, Chuck caught sight of the woman’s arm around his middle instead. Damn. That was the most muscular, hairiest forearm he had ever seen on a female. “W-wait a minute. You’re not a woman!”

“And you better hope you find a man who likes ‘em cute and ornery without a lot going on upstairs. Vacancy between the ears, kid?”

Chuck figured the man had to be smirking at the insult but he couldn’t actually see anything, thanks to the fact the newcomer stayed planted behind him without letting Chuck move. Still, the kid had to bristle. “Listen, you – ow. Okay! This may come as a shock to you, but when a man has a knife pressed to his throat, it’s a little hard to think!”

“Right spicy one, aren’t you?” The man let out a grunt, and since Chuck’s grasp of those noises had been cultivated remarkably in the past few months, he pegged that one more in the category of contemplation than anything. “Ah, I’m beginning to see how it is.”

Chuck took a break from his fidgeting, useless as it was, to gape straight ahead in the dark. “You are?”

“Sure, your shtick,” the man said, having moved the knife so that it wasn’t pressed quite as hard to his jugular. “Pretending to put up a little fight? Let them eventually get you on the bed – and you succumb to their ... exertions?”

“Pretend to - what?!”

“I’ll spell it out, but only because you’re being quiet-like now,” the man said, chuckling. “You let them think they seduced you. Or were able to take you even if you had a little bit of spark in your step to fend them off. Gets you an extra silver dollar under the pillow. Is that it?”

Chuck was suddenly thankful the room was nearly dark. At least the arrogant jerk couldn’t see his face turning red at just the thought of the images smacking his brain. “You seriously think I’m one of Sabine’s - ?”

“I do believe there are men willin’ to pay for such an act too. Good money. Bet they like it the way you do it, too. All fluster-y and pretending to be helpless. I must say you’ve got that one down pat, kid.”

“Now just a damn minute! I –”

“But you don’t have to put on that show for me, pretty boy,” the stranger told him, grinning loud enough for Chuck to hear it behind his head. “Hate to break it to you, but I’m not one of your cash-totin’ customers. Think you followed that, kid?”

“Then who the heck do you think you – oh.” Chuck’s head snapped up. His eyes roved over the simple, small room, from the quilt on the bed to the darkened window. Okay, granted, the kid knew he could be a little dense when it came to these matters, but why did it take him this long to catch on? They were in a private area of the house, and here was a man who seemed to be waiting .... Hadn’t Sabine already mentioned she had a particular man available for more, well, prudent requests?

“You’re – you work for Sabine.”

“Why? You a payin’ customer?” the man asked.

“Me?” Sharp knife be damned, Chuck did everything he could to twist around and scowl at the weasel. “I don’t pay -”

“Well, here we are, and it ain’t me. It has to be one of us.” The man stayed quiet for a long moment, and Chuck got the sense he was being studied thoughtfully. “Have to admit, you are good at this, boy, because you don’t look nothing like a little whore n’ waitin’.”

“Because I’m not ... that!”

“You can stop, now,” he said and gave Chuck a little shake with that strong arm. “Yep, you had me completely fooled until you tried to rub up against me.”

“I was trying to get away from you,” Chuck said, wincing when the knife dug in at the tone. “Now if you would just drop the -”

“I told you, boy, you don’t have to play the coy maiden with me. I’ve got no intentions of pretending to throw you down on the bed and have my way with you.”

Chuck’s eyes went wide. “I don’t get paid for sex!”

“Trouble pleasin’ your customers?” The sound of that smart-assed low laugh was beginning to grate on him. “It’s a bit too late for me to be dispensing advice to you, boy, but you mighta just wanted to find yourself another occupation. One where you could spend more time outside rather than on your back. Don’t take this wrong, but from this angle you look all peaked-like.”

Chuck took a deep breath. This was insane. The best and only opportunity he had to get out of this mess would be now, this very minute. Despite the nerves jangling every muscle, he decided he had to take a chance and hope he was faster than the man’s hand at his throat.

He didn’t bother to send up a prayer to any gods who may be watching. Too little time, and what good had it done him so far? So Chuck bent forward to put all his force behind his heel, driving it into the man’s upper thigh ... or at least in that vicinity -

“Hey, easy - oof!” His captor stumbled back, hands flying down to protect his man bits. “You little shit....”

That worked? Finding himself free, Chuck spun around, his hands making fists. “Get back! I’m not a violent man, but I will … well, punch you in the nose if you insist!”

The strange man took one look at Chuck and rolled his eyes. “Oh, hell.”

Chuck hunched, hoping he looked intimidating, though he wasn’t sure he could follow through with the swinging and jabbing that was supposed to come next. His eyes traveled over his nemesis, maybe with the hope the interloper was in actuality a one hundred and twenty pound-weakling who would drop the knife if Chuck gave his most menacing Casey-like stare.

The man squinted over at him, sizing him up in the same way.

Dang it. No weakling, Chuck saw. Not that the trespasser had anywhere near the bulkiness of a certain outlaw that came to mind, but what he didn’t have in physical superiority, he seemed to make up for with a mountainous heap of confidence.

No, arrogance. That was most definitely arrogance.

Chuck noticed there was brown, lots of brown. His pants, his shirt, even his parted hair, smooth except for an unruly cowlick in the front. He wasn’t quite as tall as Chuck, but the kid would bet ten of Casey’s silver dollars that those were bigger muscles than his own under his shirt and the man had an air that said he knew how to brawl.

At least there was a window, a not-so-great option but one he would take if he had to do it.

On second thought, two broken legs would also make him woozy.

Seeing Chuck’s dilemma, the man put out his arms wide to create a human barricade between him and the door. “Now look what you did, big man,” he said, shooting him a cocky smile. He tore off a plaid bonnet which was supposed to be some sort of a disguise, though Chuck had to wonder since he wasn’t wearing a dress. Not the time to ask, he figured. “You went ahead and got a good look at me when I told you not to.”

“How could I see anything?” Chuck asked, feeling his neck hairs prickle as the man prowled in a step. “It’s dark in here. Trust me, I can barely see my hand in front of my face –”

“Or the knife in my hand?”

“Thank you. Or the knife in your – hey, what are you doing with that?”

The man twirled it in the air again and caught it by the handle. “Well, now that you saw me, I’m going to show you a little knife trick.”

“Um. I’m pretty sure this is where I call for Sabine,” Chuck blurted, backing up until he felt his knee hit the bed. “She – she may not like knife tricks, but she could show you a rifle trick, I’m sure.” Where the hell is she!?

“Sorry, boy. Here’s how it is. You look like a nice little calico king and all.” Pausing, the man used the tip of the knife to motion over Chuck from head to toe, a gesture that made the kid’s stomach leap to his throat. “You got the right proper face. Even be pretty with a haircut. But I can’t take a chance now that you’ve seen me. Don’t know who you really work for, and that can be a problem. So that means I’m gonna have to do the honorable thing here, and it’d be best not to call out or make a little ruckus.”

“Best for who?” Chuck asked, even while his brain kept up a constant chatter of Escape! Run for it! Out the window!

“Well. Me.” The man’s face took on a seriousness that had Chuck immediately telling himself the window was the way to go, broken legs and all. It wasn’t the kid’s imagination that the unwanted guest seemed to brace himself, moving in for the ... kill?

My God, he was going to kill him.

“No, listen,” Chuck began to babble. “Can’t we talk about this like two rational human beings?”

“Nothing rational about me, boy.”

“Wait!”

Chuck opened his eyes, having no recollection of closing them. Or opening his mouth, but someone had definitely yelled wait.

The kid spun. “Who’s there -?”

In answer, he heard a noise he never thought would sound quite that beautiful. The clatter and crack of Sabine’s rifle, a cartridge ratcheting into place. “Mal, put the damn knife down,” Sabine ordered. “This boy is no threat to you.”

“Haven’t we talked about nicknames?” Chuck glanced down at her and stood a little taller. “I’m twenty-seven, for crying out loud.”

“Shut up, kid.”

“Shut up, Chuck.”

Sabine’s demand had been said without taking her eyes off the one named Mal. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just takin’ care of a private matter,” Mal explained, sharing an accusing look with the hard-as-nails Madam of Sagebrush. “Seems this boy got lost up here. Stumbled into a place he had no business sticking his nose.”

“Hey, that’s not how it happened. Sabine asked me to -”

“Glad you two seem to have met one another,” Sabine interrupted, looking from one stubborn face to the other. “Mal, he’s ... safe.”

“How do I know that?” Mal asked, pointing at Chuck with the knife.

“Now – again - can we all just try to put down the knives and guns,” Chuck suggested quickly, trying to slide behind Sabine, “and try to talk this out like civilized people? A little less like the common rabble one of us may be?”

“Wangba dan.” Mal gave him the side-eye. “Where in the universe did you find this one, Sabine?”

“Put the knife away, like he said,” Sabine repeated. The unwavering barrel ensured that her words were more than a suggestion. “Then I’ll put Molly down.”

“That one saw me. He could recognize me, couldn’t he?” Not convinced of Chuck’s alliances, Mal tipped his chin at the kid and lowered the blade only an inch or two. “Kinda defeats the purpose of me hiding out here for a few days til the search dies down when every little whore you have here can find out who I am just by barging in.”

Chuck’s mouth fell open when he realized who the whore was in this scenario. “I told you, I’m not – one of those -”

“This one isn’t going to tell anyone about you,” Sabine assured Mal.

“Yeah?” Mal turned his head to look over at him, his eyes narrowed. “Can you guarantee it? ‘Cause from what I can gather, he doesn’t seem to know how to shut up.”

Chuck decided not to add to that, instead frowning at how unfair it was.

“You have my word,” Sabine said.

Realizing he’d get nowhere with her, Mal shook his head and turned to Chuck. “Who are you?”

“I’m – well ....” Chuck shoved his hands in his pockets, turning a quizzical look to Sabine. What in the world could he say to not get in trouble?

“He’s John Casey’s boy,” Sabine said, off-hand, and tipped her head at him. “Let’s just say you two have something in common. That’s all you need to know.”

“His boy?” Chuck blinked. “Now hang on for just a minute. Considering where we are, don’t you think you just implied that I’m only his -”

“His companion? John Casey?” Mal’s brows rose past the little flip of hair bangs, and when he turned to give Chuck the eyeball, he laughed. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a good, long time. Damn thankful for it, too.”

“You remember him. Good.” Sabine still looked annoyed, but waved a hand in Chuck’s direction. “Maybe you remember his vicious streak when someone encroaches on his ... possessions.”

Chuck started to open his mouth – he was certainly not a possession of anyone, even Casey – but considering he was the only one not holding a weapon, he thought better of it.

“I might just remember something like that,” Mal said, his eyes roving over the kid with renewed interest. “That miscreant hasn’t changed a bit now, has he? I see he still likes ‘em tall. Skinny asses.” Then he added under his breath, “Crazy hair.”

“Thanks for the unbiased assessment.” Apparently, Chuck was not going to be attempting to use any seduction skills to get out of this one. Not that it was on the table with this jackass. “Um, still likes them tall? Sabine, do you mind telling me what he’s talking about?”

“Ah, merde.” Sabine flicked one look at him and tightened her lips. Chuck told himself that that was not a look of uncomfortableness, and the man had not struck a nerve, but it would probably be lying. “Long time ago. Something you shouldn’t pay any mind to. Now that you two have made your formal introductions, pleasant as they were, it’s time for you to get out of here.”

Meaning him. Well, Chuck was more than happy to comply, because despite the fact the man didn’t have the demeanor of a hardened killer – he leaned more towards shiny-faced with a heap of attitude – Mal still hadn’t bothered to put away the knife. And that bothered Chuck.

“You heard her,” Mal said. “You best run along to your customer, kid. If I remember, that demandin’ big bastard doesn’t like waiting for anything or any man. Let alone something he thinks he paid good money for.”

Chuck knew it was petulant to cross his arms and glare, but there didn’t seem to be much stopping him. “He doesn’t pay me.”

“Huh. That dirty scoundrel.” Mal gave him a look of disgust as he holstered the knife. “A word of advice, boy? You shouldn’t be giving away what you can get a right pretty penny for ... with a little practice on the demure damsel act, maybe.”

“Practice my … act-?” Chuck lifted his chin, content to make use of a good couple of inches on this egotistical twit. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this isn’t an act.”

“Well, you might be better than I thought,” Mal said. His mind churning for a moment as he looked from Chuck to Sabine, he finally seemed to relax his arms and shoulders. “And I guess if Sabine says I need to trust that you can forget my face – being in the same boat and all … then that’s what I’m gonna do. But don’t make me regret my decision, kid.”

“Oh, trust me,” Chuck said. “I regret nothing more than laying eyes on you.” Asshole.

“Good to hear. Now why don’t you march your skinny hind end back in there, and tell that cheapskate he’s going to pay you. Silver dollars if he has ‘em.” Mal took a step back to clear the way to the door. “Yep. Just the same as he did the other kid for so long. ‘Cause I wouldn’t trust an IOU from that cat-gut swindler.”

Chuck ignored the need to point out his boyfriend wouldn’t need to swindle so that he could focus on the real pertinent information in that sentence. He turned to Sabine and his head tilted a little. “Other ... say what? What kid?”

“The one that he bedded like a ruttin’–”

“Mal.” Sabine’s face flushed hot, looking as if she wanted to shoot him for real this time. “The boy’s heard enough.”

“Not yet, he hasn’t,” Mal said, his grin broadening at Chuck’s obliviousness to Casey’s previous exploits. “The one that looked just like you. Huh. You can learn so much about a man by studying what he’s willin’ and wantin’ to go to bed with. But in your case, I’d say he went with one a little more long-legged. Less meat.” One more perusal over Casey’s supposed concubine, and he grunted. “Way more pure than his usual stud service, I reckon. Though ... could be part of the act, too.”

Chuck choked on a swallow. “I am in no way his -”

“Kept boy?”

Knowing he was being provoked, Chuck gave him a sour look and turned his attention to Sabine, who seemed to have a hard time meeting his eyes. “Can someone explain this to me? Casey really was … a customer here?”

“Right regular, too.”

“Malcolm. Enough.” Sabine made a grumbling noise under her breath. “Let me introduce you to John Casey’s partner. As in boyfriend. His name is Chuck, and those are probably the only two things you need to know right now.”

“Partner? As in …? Oh.” Mal stared at him a minute and then dramatically cleared his throat. His contriteness was not fooling Chuck, though, since an impish smile broke through. “Well, this is mighty embarrassin’ for one of us. You should run along now, kid.”

“One of us should,” Chuck corrected. “Uh, Sabine, if you don’t mind, I think I have a few questions for you tonight at the dinner table.”

She didn’t acknowledge his request, unless an eye roll and head shake counted. Instead, she just glanced swiftly at Mal, her expression hard to decipher, and turned to Chuck. “Could you give us a minute, kid? I’d like to have a word with my other house guest –”

“ ... Ma’am?” a voice called up the stairs. “Where’s the ... lady that runs this house?”

The three froze for a split second or an eternity. Hearing low rumblings from below, Mal and Sabine were the first to move, striding to the doorway with Chuck on their heels. Sabine cocked her ear to listen down the hallway. “Wait here,” she said suddenly, halting Chuck.

“May I help you?” they heard Luciana ask. From the sound of their voices, Chuck guessed that she had intercepted the man in the spacious parlor at the foot of the stairs. “It’s a little early to get started this evening, gentlemen, but I’m sure we can accommodate such ... fine guests.”

“We’re not here as customers, girl,” a man explained. “Now we don’t wanna cause trouble, but the other woman – the little lady with the rifle – wasn’t quite willing to let us in last time.”

“Yes, I remember,” Luciana replied. “So why are you still here?”

“We’re doing her a favor, and we wanted to let her know about it. That’s all.”

“Bringing men with guns who aren’t looking for a little company tonight isn’t doing us a favor.” There was a short pause, one where Chuck could only marvel at her poise, imagining how many armed men she was facing down at the moment. “In fact, you’ll be scaring away the paying customers, so you best be on your way.”

“We need you to find her,” another man said. “The whor – lady who runs this joint.”

“Why would I do that?”

They heard a few of the men chuckle. “Because our petition was approved.”

“What petition?” Luciana asked.

“It looks like the magistrate has finally got off his dead ass and issued a general warrant to search this place. Tomorrow morning, the sheriff will be knockin’ at your door – and a passel of his deputies will be turning yer fancy place over top to bottom.”

Chuck blinked slowly. Why did his heart suddenly feel as if it would break through his chest?

“Doesn’t sound like a favor, gentlemen.” Luciana’s voice was stiff.

“You haven’t heard us out, Miss. Me and my friends here? We wanna save you the trouble of having all that ... unwanted attention. Bet the word of having an oh-ficial search party crawling over your place doesn’t do much for a business like this, does it?”

“So let me guess. You’re willing to conduct a search more discreetly?”

“I think that little lady is catchin’ on, don’t you, Hank?”

“And what do you think you’ll find?” they heard Luciana say. “We already told you only paying customers are allowed inside. No one here but the girls – and one young man, if you swing that way?”

A man growled. Another swore under his breath and laughed. “We think there’s another one. A man who don’t wanna be found.”

Mal rolled his eyes and seemed to brush it off with a minute head shake at Sabine. On the other hand, Chuck swore his dinner was going to make a second appearance. He forced it back.

“But maybe if we find the feller tonight in a more ... peaceful manner,” the intruder went on to say, “we can tell the magistrate to call off his little treasure hunt, and we can all go back to minding our own business. Seems like you ladies would appreciate that ... considering what you’re selling here.”

“So this would have nothing to do with the fact that you four gentlemen,” she said, stressing the title with sarcasm, “would be able to share the five thousand-dollar reward among yourselves – rather than have to split it with the deputies who bang on our door tomorrow?”

“There does happen to be a reward involved,” a man said, his voice almost guttural, “but I don’t know what you’re implying, Miss.”

“Well, that’s strange because it should be pretty clear – even to someone like you – that I’m implying you are a ruthless pig.”

“Smart mouth bitch,” one of the men muttered.

As soon as the words were spat out, it was amazing how quickly Sabine took a step forward, her body tensing as she lifted her rifle. “He’ll be first,” she said sharply under her breath. “I recommend the two of you hide behind the wardrobe. There’s a panel behind it that leads to the attic.”

“My attic?” Chuck heard himself say. “You mean to tell me this – this saddle snake could’ve gone up –”

“Not now, kid,” Sabine warned him.

Mal put a hand on her arm. “Listen,” he said. “Don’t go down there yet.”

“We’re gonna go ahead and look around, whether you mind or not, so you best get out of the way, little girl.”

“Who the hell are you looking for, anyway?”

Before the man could answer, both Mal and Chuck visibly held their breath.

“Tall clumsy kid. Looks like he spends either too much time readin’ or with his head in the clouds.”

“What the hell,” Chuck whispered.

Chuck saw Sabine and Mal exchange a glance before turning to look at him. Mal’s smug look spread. “Sounds like you earned yourself a search party, boy,” he mouthed. “Wonder what a kid like you did to rile up the locals.”

Before Chuck could tell him to kindly go to hell, the creak of a door opening and closing on its hinges wafted up. Had to be the door to Sabine’s kitchen. Were they already starting their search?

But when he heard the unmistakable clatter of boots on the stairs, Chuck clenched his fists to keep from scurrying under a bed or in a closet. The other man hadn’t moved yet, so he’d be damned to be the first one to flinch. Even if it was him they were looking for.

Oh, God.

Sabine, however, was having none of it. Her rifle leveled off, ready to put a bullet through the first man who showed his head over the stair railing.

“Sabine, wait,” Mal said, taking her arm again. “I think we can do this without bringing an army of deputies down on us tonight. Giving them rightful cause. If you shoot, they will be back, and they’ll bring their friends.”

Sabine was already squinting down the barrel. “If you have an idea, you better spit it out, because I will take the first one just for fun.”

Chuck went bug-eyed. A minute ago he wanted to flee from Mal, but now it was a tossup as to which was most terrifying.

“Creating a diversion,” Mal explained. “Making them think they searched the place clean already.”

“I’m not turning myself in to protect you,” Chuck said, backing away from the man. He just didn’t trust that baby face of his. Who knows? He was probably part of the Banditti of the Prairie gang, or some other nefarious faction that crept around from place to place, stealing and killing. “It may be the honorable thing, but frankly, I think you’re nothing but a complete –”

“C’mere, boy. You got a job in all this, too.”

“I do?”

Mal grabbed him. “Let’s go play pretend, button,” he merely said, and he kept a grip on the spot where Chuck’s shoulder met his neck so that he was essentially dragged back into the room. “Get in bed.”

Chuck gaped and pulled back on his collar. “I am not getting into bed with you!”

Well, apparently, he was.

The moment he had raised his voice, a few disconcerting things happened. One, a hand was slapped over his mouth right as Chuck was all set to fling another protest. And two, the man swung a leg out, swept Chuck’s legs out from under him, and before he could bite the man’s hand, the kid was flat on his back on the mattress.

“Mmph!”

“Quiet,” Mal hissed. Sure enough, Chuck’s worst nightmare came to life. Without so much as a how do you do, the man landed on top of him with his knees or either side of the kid’s arms. “Now I don’t care n’ I’m messing with your delicate sensibilities, boy. For the next ten minutes, you’re going to be the pretty – well, let’s just say right sprightly - prostitute in this scenario.” Clamping his hand harder, he watched Chuck’s shocked face with that little grin Chuck was beginning to hate. “Or companion, if you prefer being all fancy-like.”

It was immature, he knew, but Chuck did attempt to bite him. “Fphcy? Y’ pherf!”

“Now, do you always treat your customers that way?”

“Offph!”

It was quite a feat of acrobatics, Chuck figured, for Mal to keep one hand glued over his mouth, maintain the tight hold around him with his knees, and unbutton his own shirt one-handed at the same time. No matter how much Chuck tried to pitch or buck him off, the man didn’t seem to be bothered at all by the efforts. In fact, with his stupid little bangs falling loosely over his forehead and the corner of his mouth curling up, he seemed amply amused by Chuck’s efforts. It only made Chuck want to slug him even harder. Well, if he could move his arms.

“All right, this is where it gets really fun,” Mal said, tossing his shirt to the floor. “Luckily, you have the easy part in this act. What is it, you wanna know? Well, I’ll tell you. You get to just lay there under the blankets – and me, I suppose – and pretend you’re enjoying what I’m doing. Think you can handle that?”

“Noph!” Chuck attempted to buck him off again, not that it worked so well the first time. And as luck would have it, the man seemed familiar with breaking ornery colts, or men who had no desire to pretend to be paid companions, because he only clamped down more firmly.

The clap of boots at the top of the stairs stopped him cold. Concluding that now was not the time to make a racket, the kid gave up his struggles and settled on breathing petulantly through his nose. And glaring up at him. He had some modesty, after all.

“Well, that’s a little nicer,” Mal said, giving him an amused look. “Now, I should warn you, I’m gonna have to lay on top of you, but no worries, kid. You’re pretty and all, like I said, but your partner would lob off my balls and feed ‘em to that cantankerous horse of his if’n something happened right now.”

Chuck began squirming again.

“Yeah, that’ll work. Make it look like you have a little reciprocation in those skinny hips.”

Chuck had a fuck off cued up and ready to go if he could only talk, but the second the sound of boots echoed down the hallway, he closed his eyes and held his breath. This was never going to work! They should be hiding.

While Chuck’s brain fed him ideas, he felt Mal move and shift his weight. A blanket was draped over him, both of them actually, from the waist down. Only when Mal had it arranged more carefully to cover Chuck did the man then do the unthinkable and sprawl on top of him, aligning their bodies from calves to thighs, stomachs to chests.

“Oph, hell,” Chuck managed.

Mal gave him a grin and snapped up the pillow, using it to cover their heads. “Ever make girl sounds before?” he asked in the tiny cubby of air they shared under the pillow. “This is where your acting skills will come in handy, boy.”

Girl sounds? He didn’t mean ....

Uh-oh.

The shifting of the surprisingly hard fighter’s body answered him. To Chuck’s horror, one of the man’s knees drew over his thigh and landed directly between Chuck’s knees. It came awfully close to a resting place that the kid considered highly private and branded to a much larger man. “Whaff are y’ dophing?!”he squawked between Mal’s fingers.

“Hush!” Mal told him. “He’s almost here.”

Lying under him, Chuck’s entire body tensed. He tried to picture how the scene would look from the doorway and if it would be enough to dissuade a search party from looking any further than the threshold. Within the darkened room, they’d get an eyeful of two bodies pressed together, a long pale back of one man visible, and hardly an inch of Chuck out in the open.

Still, this was crazy. He couldn’t do this. Could not. It wasn’t going to –

Oh, crap. What was that?

As if on cue, Mal brought up his kneecap a little higher, and now there was nothing but flimsy fabric between Chuck’s jewels and the man’s roving leg.

Chuck sucked in a breath and did the only thing he could. The noise came out in an embarrassing combination of a squeak and a whimper.

“Yeah, good, now you’re getting it” Mal breathed against his ear. “Do it again.”

Just to ensure the kid complied with the request, Mal brought up his knee one more time – and now he wanted to point out to the ass that he was being the one rubbed up against. “Umph!” Chuck said, and his voice squeaked one more time. God, please don’t let - oh.

That utter bastard.

“Easy, kid.” Mal grinned. “Only a show, but I do like the way you –”

“Hey! Who the hell are you?” a new voice sneered from the doorway. “Whaddya doing in here?”

Mal’s head jolted and he peeked out from under the pillow, looking abashed. “Well, considerin’ we’re in a whorehouse and I’m in bed with a ... lady, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure it out now, should it?”

Chuck held his breath. Though there was an air pocket, the pillow felt suffocating. So there was a bright side. Maybe fate would have mercy and let him die with just an ounce of dignity.

“I didn’t realize someone was here,” he heard the man say gruffly.

“And I didn’t realize there was a line at the door waitin’ for this one.” Mal said, beginning to rock his hips almost imperceptibly. Keeping it slow and easy didn’t quite matter. Chuck certainly felt it. There was no hiding that. “Someone in the parlor should’ve told you that I’m not quite done yet.”

Chuck cringed, imagining the man’s look. Ten times worse, he imagined Mal’s satisfied smirk. It took every fiber of his being not to start squirming again and in some way in hell throw the man off, only so that he could turn himself in.

“Not a customer,” the hunter replied. “Looking for someone.”

“If it ain’t me and it ain’t this little lady, then you may just wanna move along and let me finish my business.”

Chuck got an elbow free and nudged him in the ribs. It made him feel better at least that Mal made a little oof sound.

“Feisty little thing, aren’t ya?” Mal whispered against his cheek.

“None of my business,” Chuck heard the man say, “but how n’ tarnation can she even breathe like that? Doesn’t seem like a way to treat a woman, even a loose ... frisky one like this one.”

“Oh, she’s fine,” Mal assured him. “Aren’t you, darlin’?” He shuffled the pillow around to make a bigger slit for his eyes, peering over at the man. “You see, I could only scrape together enough silver dollars for a mighty homely one. Found out its better this way, not to have to look her in the eyes.”

Chuck did his best to scowl, despite Mal’s unwelcome paw covering half his face.

The man coughed politely, his boots scuffing the floor. “Well, I reckon that’s desperation, but no need to explain. I’ll ... ah, I’ll just leave you to your business, then.” He raised his voice and called down the hallway to someone, “Nope, no tall, goofy-looking one with the hair, James.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Chuck wanted to know, feeling insulted.

“Mind shutting the door?” Mal asked. “She might get a little loud towards the end ... and I, well, you understand ....”

Mortified beyond the moon, Chuck heard the door shut. When the sound of low voices moved further away, back towards the stairs, he put all his muscle into his best bucking bronco imitation again. “Geph Off!”

“Take it easy, boy,” Mal told him, not budging an inch. “Wait until we hear them leave. Then you can have your mouth back. Reckon you’ll need it, eh? Seeing as you’ll wanna tell me thanks for saving your scrawny carcass and all.”

Chuck glowered into his blue eyes. “Iph hatph you.”

“Aw, no hard feelings, kid.” Mal chuckled, and when he heard the front door downstairs open and close, he finally relaxed his knees and moved his hand from Chuck’s mouth. “See. It worked.”

“Dammit,” Chuck spit out, giving him a long-suffering look. “Are you insane?! Next time, given the choice between being a hostage or your homely companion, just let them take me, okay?!”

“Now that don’t sound like thanks,” Mal said, sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Bastard,” Chuck added for good measure, too busy clambering out from under him to show his appreciation. When he landed on his feet, he scrambled over to the door, needing to put as much space as he could between himself and the giant ass. “Where’s my sack of tools?” he said looking around at the floor. “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave and let you finish your own damn business.”

“Felt like you had all your tools with you, boy,” Mal said, reveling in this too much.

“You. Shut up,” the kid mumbled. “Ah, there they are.” Chuck hid his flushed cheeks by scooping up the sack and turning towards the door.

As luck would have it, that was the moment Sabine entered, still holding her rifle.

“They’re gone.” Catching one glimpse of Chuck’s flustered appearance and Mal’s naked chest, one perfectly arched brow rose high. “Everything okay in here, boys?”

“Just peachy,” Mal said.

“Just shoot me with that,” Chuck replied at the same time. And without looking back, he hustled down the hallway as fast as he could.

“Hell? What did you do to him, Mal?” he heard Sabine say.

“Just havin’ a little fun with Casey’s partner, that’s all. What’s the harm in that?”

“Are you sure you remember John Casey?”

-x-

Because the cold water sluicing over his face and down his throat felt invigorating after what seemed like a visit to Hell, Chuck lowered his head and continued to splash what was left in his washbasin until he had to accept it wasn’t going to help. The little voices continued to whisper and warn him about the dangers of staying, the danger he put his new friends in by letting them harbor a fugitive.

“Damn coward,” he muttered at himself and cupped his hands to scoop water over the back of his neck. It ran in cool streams under his cotton shirt, down his chest, his back. No, it didn’t make a damn bit of difference. Chuck was still upstairs in his darkened yet safe loft, putting himself above everyone and everything around him.

Really, Casey? Was this all part of your master plan?

A fleeting look in the mirror above the basin made him frown. He’d avoid thinking about Mal and the amount of humiliation he had suffered, thanks to not only the brash man but his own stupid body. There were bigger picture issues at the moment, ones that weren’t going to go away by drenching his skin in icy water.

They’d be back. They always came back.

What would he do then? Run? Hide? Again. Why on earth did it seem the walls were closing in, sapping the oxygen from the attic? And better yet, why did Casey think that being stashed here was the answer?

Maybe it wasn’t.

-x- End Chapter Twenty-Eight Sins Fell Angels-x-


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sins Fell Angels

Chapter Twenty-Nine

-x-

A mosquito buzzed close to his head. Chuck swatted at it. The annoying drone became distant, but the kid knew it was only a matter of time before it’d be back with its blood-sucking buddies. A lot like the men who paid a visit tonight.

Chuck continued to lie in bed, the low attic rafters closing in on him. His mind was wracking too much for his eyes to focus in on anything. He’d spent the entire evening just staring up into the darkness, wondering if he had any other options, and fretting over the useless conversation he’d had with Sabine before climbing up the stairs.

“It’s too dangerous for me to stay here,” Chuck had told her. “What if they do come back looking for me? You, Luciana, heck, everyone is taking a risk –”

“That’s not your worry, boy. That’s mine.”

Chuck placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together in front of his face. “Though I admire what you’re doing for me – and Casey – I think you need to listen to logic.”

“You’re not going anywhere, if that’s where this is leading,” Sabine answered, putting away the dinner dishes. “I can handle myself and those lawmen just fine without breaking an oath to the one man I owe my life.”

“If Casey were here, if he knew what was happening, he’d tell you that it’s okay to –”

“But he’s not, is he?” Sabine took his coffee mug to rinse it clean. “Besides, if he were here, he’d tell you that you need to trust my judgment.”

“You don’t know the type of men we’re dealing with,” Chuck argued, feeling as dismissed as a child. “Do you really think they’re going to give up that easily?”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll be ready either way.”

Chuck blinked at her vehemence. That didn’t make him feel better. “Answer this: how did two people as mule-headed as you and John Casey ever manage to become friends without shooting each other in the process?”

“How are you so sure I didn’t shoot him?” Sabine asked.

“Wait. What?”

Slanting a look at him, her eyes danced with mischief. “You of all people have seen enough of his bare skin to know the man has a few marks and scars ... all telling a story, I suppose.”

“Marks and scars, yes. Telling me anything about how he got them, that would be a no.” Chuck set his fork down on his plate as he thumbed it out of way. Being trapped under that ass hat while men searched for him did nothing for his appetite. “He only just started opening up to me about ... his past. How he ended up where he did. But I can also tell that you’re fibbing about shooting him.” The kid wrinkled his nose as he thought about it. “Though I must admit, I have been tempted myself a few times.”

Smiling, Sabine reached out to ruffle Chuck’s curls. “The man seems to have that effect on occasion. And I’m sure he has plenty more ideas to ... keep you on your toes.”

“His charms haven’t been lost on you, either, I see,” Chuck replied without commenting on the smirk. Instead, he politely jerked his head out of the way of her hand. “Sabine, hear me out. I’m trying to do the right thing here, okay? I don’t want to be the reason there’s a search party in your home. Threatening your ... livelihood, shall we say? Do you really think if they look hard enough, they won’t find the door that leads to the attic?”

“Noble, boy, really.” Proving how she viewed such nobility, Sabine rolled her eyes. “I need to get out to the front parlor, and you need to either stay here or go up to the loft for the night.”

“So basically you didn’t hear a thing I said.” Chuck’s face darkened, but he knew it was useless when she had that look, so he leaned back to cross his arms over his chest. “Glad we had this little chat.”

“Yes, I heard you.” Taking a few steps towards the door, she caught her own reflection in a mirror and took a moment to smooth her hair. “How about this? I’ll take it up with your boyfriend when he gets here.”

“What? Sabine, that’s not what I -”

“But until then, your job is to keep yourself under wraps and follow simple instructions. I want you to trust me, Chuck. I’m going to protect you. Keep you safe.”

“I guess ... I’ll just head up then. Good night, Sabine.” Chuck ran a hand over his hair, trying to fix the dark waves she had ruffled. “Oh, wait. One more thing.”

She turned those perfectly green, perfectly almond-shaped eyes on him. “Yes?”

“Um, thank you. For everything.” Chuck gestured at the kitchen, hoping she didn’t notice that he had swallowed hard. “In case I forget to say it.”

“You won’t,” Sabine said, her composure a direct contrast to the miring guilt making everything in Chuck want to look away from her. “Try to get some sleep. You look ... too troubled for someone your age, kid.” With a wink, she left him.

How could she be so calm about this?

Two hours had crawled by since Sabine left him in the kitchen with his half eaten dinner and a headful of worries. The only distraction, unwanted, when he finally dragged himself upstairs was The Human Teapot and her customers. No pillow over his head or any amount of brain bleach would block that out.

Why was he just laying here? It wasn’t as if anything had changed.

“Um, that’s pretty much it for moping,” Chuck said, sitting up in the bed. “Time to get off your butt and do something about it, Bartowski.” Now that he had actually said it aloud, he felt an instinctive jolt of his heart against his ribcage, but he squashed it. That part was fear, and what he needed was resolve. It gave him a semblance of control, something he hadn’t felt since being drugged and shoved on a train.

You’re still dead meat for that, Casey.

He had to leave. That was the only solution to save everyone’s hide. Even the jerk stashed upstairs. “Okay, let’s move. I’d rather not be a sitting duck. Hear that, John?” Chuck was already hauling ass out of bed, as if the prospect of being on his own wasn’t bleak and scary. The decision to defy someone he loved tore through him. But what was he supposed to do?

‘And don’t think we won’t be talking about his little stunt,’ Chuck could hear a gruff voice say.

“Well, you’re not here,” he mumbled back at it. “And I need to get the situation under control. For once. You can yell at me later.” Gathering up his clothes and books, he stuffed them in the satchel, his fingers checking the hidden seam to be sure the stash of money was still in the lining. It was, just like it was two hours ago.

Chuck ignored the borrowed clothes piled on a chair, scrambling to grab his own worn jeans and shirts instead, then the black boots and hat that belonged to him – or at least he was wearing them when he woke up in the Pullman.

So now what? Quickly, he ticked off his in head all the basics of what he’d need. His tools and designs, for sure. Though he hated the Cipher, and would prefer to just leave it under the bed and never think of it again, Casey would probably have a grunt or two to say about that.

Beginning to feel a little terrified, Chuck crammed in the last set of books, barely getting them inside the satchel, and closed the flap. When he walked over to the top of the stairs that would lead him into the supply closet, he cocked his ear to listen.

Was anyone down there? He couldn’t call out. His frown deepened as he waited. It was disconcerting to say the least that the kid was beginning to pick up on the daily routine of a brothel. But he knew that once the evening activities began to fire up, the private quarters would remain empty until midnight or so. Usually around that time, he could hear Luciana or Sabine in the kitchen, stoking the stove and fire, making a hot drink or getting something to eat.

If there was ever a now or never ....

Chuck reached into his jean’s front pocket and tugged out Casey’s pocket watch. Looking down at it, he couldn’t stop his thumb from impulsively tracing over the etched gold case before he flipped it open. He’d give his favorite dime store novels and all the money in the satchel to run his hand over the heated, bare skin, layers of solid muscles of the watch’s owner, but that would come soon enough. It didn’t help to remind himself that his lover may be in danger or worse. The tension had frozen him long enough. He had to trust, just as Casey told him. This time, trust his own instincts.

Almost nine o’clock. Since the women typically slept late, it should give him a good twelve hours head start.

“Hope you know how much I appreciated this, Sabine,” he murmured to himself, glancing around the loft for the final time. “Maybe someday you won’t want to shoot me for not taking your advice.”

When Chuck squeezed through the hidden passageway’s opening and cautiously peered into the kitchen, he saw he was right about it being empty. He dropped his satchel on the table and hunted through his bag for paper and his fountain pen. The letter to Sabine was brief because he couldn’t think of the right words. Maybe they didn’t exist. Chuck only hoped she’d understand that he needed to get away, to be brave, face his fears.

On to the next letter. And he thought the first was hard? The kid tore out another sheet from his notebook and fiddled with the pen. “Okay, Casey,” he whispered, staring at the blank paper, “you’re going to want to kill me for this, but it’s the only thing to do to keep everyone safe. Trust my judgement for once, will you?”

A hint of a small smile crept across Chuck’s face as he wrote. Little did Casey know that he was the one who had chosen the place for their rendezvous, taken from a rare nugget of open honesty the larger man had revealed when he first came to the farm.

With that tidbit of knowledge tucked away until now, Chuck laid out the script on paper for his stubborn lover, hoping he’d finally follow his instructions for once. The information spelled it out. The city they would use as their starting point. The train station where they would meet in one week’s time. All of it marking the start of their life together.

“I suppose I’ll have some making up to do after this,” Chuck said, not exactly put off by the idea. Folding each sheet of paper, he wrote their names on the letters and half tucked them behind the one Casey had written for Sabine, still sitting on the fireplace mantle.

He looked over the letters until something in the back of his eyes began to ache. Then, and only then, he slipped the pocket watch off the chain, stretching the tiny gold links out underneath the envelope. Kind of silly, he knew, but Casey would secretly like it. The message that in one week, they’d join again.

God, he hated to think of the fire in Sabine’s eyes when she found the letters in the morning. Only one thought was worse than that, the ice pellets in Casey’s when he opened his letter and found out his plan had been altered. Just a bit, okay?

One of these days, Chuck figured, he should stop pissing off people who liked to point loaded firearms at his head.

“It’s the only way, guys.” Chuck sighed and rubbed both hands over his face. Grabbing the canvas coat off a hook by the door, he slung the bag over his shoulder, and waited by the door.

It took about twenty minutes, but he knew what would eventually happen. Sure enough, it was only a matter of time before a group of rowdy men half walked, half stumbled out onto the front porch, suitably boozed up with bawdy laughter flowing after them.

“Time to blend in.” Chuck let out a breath and slipped through the door into the darkened garden.

He didn’t move for a moment.

The sun had just set on the world, the final purple and pink light on the edges of the sky casting everything in a murky glow. The kid stared out down the path and the white gate beyond. Taking that path meant danger, being out in the open, susceptible. Sweat began to drip down under his shirt as he scanned the road beyond Sabine’s fence and listened. No wagons, no voices.

Part of him wanted to go back inside, to walk up the stairs, get back in the bed. Wanted to put the pillow over his eyes and ignore everything, the men searching, his father, Liam, hoping it would all go away.

But no matter how the world saw him, he wasn’t just a dumb kid anymore. Hiding behind the supply closet door wouldn’t slay the monsters who wanted him. This time, the danger was real, the wolf had claws and teeth ready to sink into him – and he was the one person who had to fight them.

So that’s what he needed to do. Seeing that his ten-second window to slither around the house and join the men was now, he took that step towards the way out – not putting his life in Casey’s hands – and instead put his life in his own hands.

-x-

The front doors closed for the night around three in the morning. Sabine had shepherded the last customer – a little breathless and a little more sated – out onto the porch, and by the time she ended her final round to each boudoir, she made the decision to collapse onto her feather mattress. As long as the brass box was locked and under her bed next to her loaded rifle, counting the cash could wait until morning.

She hadn’t expected to sleep that soundly, but the minute she drew the quilt up to her chin, Sabine was out like a light. It wasn’t that she was a deep sleeper. Mais non, too risky. Being in a customer-serving business, where the customers had a tendency to be raucous, drunk, and horny, taught her long ago to drowse nearly with one eye open. Came in handy sometimes when a randy cowboy showed up for a nightcap after closing time and forgot his manners. Molly knew a little bit about teaching manners, and since John Casey was the one who showed her how to handle a rifle, Molly rarely missed.

The clock said nine-thirty when she woke.

That in itself was strange enough, she thought, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Any other night, she’d awaken at least two or three times. Check the doors. Add a log to the fire in the winter, keep it stoked. Peek in on a girl who might be missing some long lost boy back home.

What made it odd was the quiet that had kept her snoozing. She had found the kid to be fidgety and an early riser, making coffee or those god awful hotcakes of his that Sabine politely forced down.

She knew he loved Casey. She didn’t doubt it from the very beginning. How else could he put blind trust in a man who had made a promise before leaving him on a train? The love was in the kid’s eyes when he spoke of him, quietly shining there, wanting to protect his lover in the same way he was being protected. In turn, Sabine assured the boy Casey was safe.

It didn’t make any of it easier. If anything, each day made it harder.

It still amazed her that the giant, brusque bear of a man she had come to know had finally succumbed to such a humanly weak emotion. Especially considering the unlikely magnet – over six feet of awkward charm - that had drawn him in. God, that had to piss him off.

Sabine continued to lie there, staring up at the ceiling and smiling at the thought. Hell, he’d never own up to it. Not to her. Almost not at all to that kid up there, though Casey had to have done something to make Chuck show up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. Thinking Casey could save him, when it was obvious it was the other way around.

Getting to know the gangly yet adorable creature who had slayed the dragon made every moment the kid was here that much more precious. They’d be gone in a few days’ time, and this round, Sabine would bet her brass box that she’d never lay eyes on them again.

Casey had always been fascinating to watch, big and ornery on the outside, deep as a lake on the inside. Each shift of his upper body brought to mind the vision of thick ropes under his skin, rolling beneath the surface like a bend of a powerful river. How could she forget evenings by the fire, when he’d settle in to clean those damn guns of his? Images flitted. Strong hands engaged in an impossibly detailed task. In and out, up and down -

The stray thought made her roll her eyes at herself.

Was it wrong to daydream about a man who was definitely off limits? Imagine a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her body, a shelter of skin under the rumpled blankets?

Hell and No. No crime in noticing when God happened to put a prime specimen out there for the looking. Be wrong not to, like a slap against The Maker.

So she committed that good deed more than once. Observing all of those straight lines of his cheekbones and jaw, the way they hardened, such that you were looking at the face of a man who wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t think of it, no matter the odds. A watchful demeanor that masked a man who did a lot of thinking.

Then, just as she would decide he could do nothing else to surprise her, Casey brought her a living, kicking piece of evidence that his heart had been pilfered when he wasn’t looking. By a kid who didn’t seem to know he was even a more accomplished thief than his partner.

Sabine outright grinned, shifting her eyes over the ceiling towards the attic where the thief slept. Priceless retribution, John.

When Chuck was forced over her threshold that night, the object of affection was only a bewilderment for a moment or so. Her curiosity dissolved about the time it took for Sabine to take off the kid’s hat and get a good look at what had gutted the invincible John Casey.

A young man as irresistible as a camp fire on a cool autumn evening. He seemed to be at heart what he’d been taught from someone. A mother or sister, no doubt. Modest, not flamboyant in the least. Shy even, at times. He had a bashful tendency to look away when he flashed that smile, but his brown eyes told too much. There was a hurt behind them that ran deep, hiding something the kid wouldn’t let come to the surface. What it was, Sabine couldn’t even fathom, though she had a suspicion John knew.

Telling herself she had frittered away enough time, Sabine slid off her nightgown and dressed in her day clothes, a simple long brown skirt and light blue blouse. Her feet bare, her hair uncombed, she reached under the bed and pulled out the cash box and the rifle. As a rule, she counted the money before falling asleep, but she’d discovered a new level of exhaustion last night after the altercation with the search party.

Luckily, Mal didn’t get as far as killing Chuck. Merde, no one would want to explain that mess to John Casey – or use a dustpan to get rid of any last bits of Mal’s limbs after he was done with him.

Sabine followed her intuition that someone had to be up already, and plodded into the kitchen. Coffee was brewing. She secretly hoped it was Luciana who had made it and not Chuck, since the kid didn’t seem to know his way around a pantry. Fortunately, Casey did, so the two of them together were not likely to starve.

Turning to pour herself a cup, she couldn’t shove down the unease that sat in her mind. Chuck was right about one thing. The threat from the men last night, the hoot owls who warned them that the sheriff would likely be paying an unwelcome visit, was real. They weren’t going to stop digging around for him until there was nowhere to turn.

She had to ask herself one thing: what in the hell kind of trouble could a kid like that get into, anyway?

But that unease had nothing on the whopper she carried like a brick on her chest. What if Casey didn’t come back? What would happen to Chuck?

When do you tell a man it’s time to give up on waiting?

Luciana pushed the door open and halted in her tracks, sniffing the air like a hound dog. “Did he make the hotcakes?” she asked, casting a suspicious eye towards the stove.

“No, he’s still sleeping.” Sabine tipped her head towards the closet. “Who knows? Maybe Mal wore him out?”

“Heh. Thank God,” Lucian muttered. She helped herself to a mug from the cupboard and poured a cup of coffee. “Never saw a person like that in front of a stove who thinks he knows how to cook. Clumsy as a squirrel humping a nut.”

“Coffee’s decent.”

“I made it. Thought I’d beat him to the punch.” She lowered herself into a chair. “Brewed it before visiting the outhouse.”

“I think you like having him here.”

“Entertaining, is all,” Lu agreed begrudgingly.

Sabine let loose a small smile and took a sip. Since even a woman as surly and hardened as her business partner managed to fall under his witchy brown-eyed spell, she couldn’t quite blame herself for feeling the same way. “His idea yesterday. Funny, but it seemed to work.”

“How much?”

“Not sure.” Sabine glanced down at the box. “I haven’t counted it yet.”

“Then I’m not ready to say it worked.”

“No faith in our boy?” Sabine asked, not surprised at the other woman’s cynicism. “Okay, let’s settle it. Why don’t we take a look?”

Opening the box, she began counting the dollars and silver. Five minutes later, with the bills neatly sorted and stacked, Sabine drew back, considered the other woman as she stared down at the night’s take. “Now that’s odd.”

“What is?”

“You don’t look nearly as skeptical as you did a few minutes ago.”

Luciana lifted a shoulder. “I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“About the fact that the sound of those damn bells just became less annoying.”

“So you think you can get used to them?”

“Kind of soothing, aren’t they?” Not able to hold it back any longer, a smile broke out over Luciana’s face. Sabine was sorry the kid wasn’t sitting there to see it, certain that the other woman would’ve leaned over and kissed him or at least messed with that tempting hair. For now, Luciana put her feet up on the closest chair and took a long swig of coffee. “Can’t believe he pulled it off.”

“Looks like he earned his keep after all.”

“Still say he could’ve done that the first night,” Luciana said, tilting her head, obviously considering the haul a long-legged boyish man could bring in. “Has that appeal that certain men seem to like.”

“He’s not here to blush for you.”

“I’ll save it, then.”

“Good thinking,” Sabine said. “The girls will be pleased with their cut.”

“Me, too. Just noticed a fancy new dress in the window at Mae’s yesterday ....”

“Did you now?” Sabine gave her an amused look and put her feet up onto the same chair, scooting Lu’s over to make room. “Aren’t you still paying off the last one?”

“Silk,” Luciana went on, “and the color of a ripe orange –”

A short knock at the door made both women jump.

Without waiting for another tap, Sabine jumped out of her chair and opened a compartment under the cast iron stove. “Don’t know why I always hide it. Our money, fair and square.” But knowing the law wasn’t always square, she stuffed the brass box in its slot. “I’m ending this once and for all.”

“We could just try to flirt with the sheriff again. It worked last time.”

“Done flirting with that asshole,” Sabine said. As soon as she had the rifle in her hands, she cocked it, getting a nice rise out of the comforting clack. Seemed soothing. “Now he can flirt with Molly.”

“Just don’t shoot at the weasely deputy. He didn’t seem to like it much.”

“Then his big toe shouldn’t have crossed the line,” she responded, and pointed her chin towards the hearth. “Get the key, Lu. Under the mantle clock. Do it quick, and lock the closet door.”

“Why?” she asked, moving to do it anyway.

“We can’t have the boy wandering in right now. That should signal him to stay put and be quiet.”

“What about his doodles?” Using the term that peeved the kid, Luciana nodded at a corner of the table where one of Chuck’s drawings sat half-finished. “Looks like he was working on -”

“Get rid of it. Now.” Sabine’s order cut her off mid-sentence. “Or anything else he left lying around. Hell, damn kid might as well leave a fancy calling card ....”

Without turning around, Sabine heard Luciana snatch the paper from the table. Something made the other woman pause at the fireplace mantle. Maybe Sabine heard wrong, but she swore there was a soft, “What’s - oh, no,” coming from Lu.

Sabine’s head snapped around, but a noise broke through: a small stack of papers flying into the smoldering embers. More evidence to destroy. Instantly, the fire raced around the pages, snapping and devouring them like dragon’s teeth.

“Kid’s gonna hate you for burning any of his designs,” Sabine told her. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The leader of the posse knocked again, more impatiently. Sabine turned her attention towards the door and leveled off her rifle. “Be right there,” she called out, and added to herself. “Connard.”

“Careful, Sabine.” Luciana clamped down on her elbow. “Don’t know how many there are.”

Shrugging her off, Sabine pulled open the door and lined up her rifle’s muzzle to the lucky man who happened to be leading the charge. “What the hell do you want?” she growled, just as she had been taught.

Down, down the barrel, her eyes caught sight of a jaw. Perfectly chiseled. The man shook his head, stepped forward, close enough for her to smell fresh earth on his clothes, musky leather.

“What ..?” Startled, her gaze snapped upward to a familiar pair of brilliant blue eyes. Oh, hell ... oh.

A few days of stubble covered his cheeks, his duster and hat looking a little more tattered than the last time she saw him. Sabine knew the man she was looking at would be riveting until the day he died, even with the sculpted lines of old age.

No complaints to see the man in his prime, however. A confirmation that he was still the tall, broad-chested muscled specimen worth daydreaming about -

“You big dumb bastard,” Sabine snapped. The muzzle stayed steady, six inches from the tip of his nose. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?”

John Casey’s eyes narrowed. He then glanced down the barrel, looking bored, and pushed his hat back on his head.

“Still have your customary greeting around here, eh?”

-x-

At first, she reminded him of a riled cat ready to pounce. At least from what he could see, past the annoying black hole of the muzzle up to his eyes. But Casey got a sense that every part of her had gone still, the gun, her face, her breath.

Which meant he had to get his hand off his holster and move it when he saw her knees give out.

“That little faith in seeing me again?” Casey asked, and he smirked down while wrapping his arms around her waist. “Thought you knew better.”

“Comment pourriez-vous le faire!” Sabine snapped back at him. Her hand, ice-cold, grabbed his arm with surprising force, and when she yanked, his boot crossed the threshold. Before he could react, she had burrowed her face into his coat, wrapping her arms around his middle, and just clung to him.

“Sabine ....”

“Don’t you ever do that to me,” she said against his neck, not caring that he had to reek like muddy horse, soot, and sweat. “What if you didn’t come back? What would I have told him?”

It took Casey’s foggy brain a second to catch up. He had never witnessed her do this before. Sabine was crying.

Damn women’s tears.

Ah, hell.

Awkward was what he’d call it. But after a few seconds, not knowing what to do, Casey felt his own arms tighten, and he hugged her just as hard.

It never had occurred to him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to her, sending the kid and knowing he may never make his way back here.

He figured it was a stupid question, on account of the muffled sounds of sniffing against his shoulder, but he had to ask it. “You okay?”

Sabine, her head now on his shoulder, nodded. “I’m fine,” and her voice sounded firmer. “I was the one worried about you all this time. You’re okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

Well, he was achy, remnants of his capture at Black Rock, but Casey didn’t feel any of it was important. “Nah,” he said. “Just didn’t go as I needed it to, but I’m here.”

“Good. Then ....” Sabine didn’t give any warning at all. She pulled back and slammed her fist into his arm with all the force she could muster. “Damn fool!”

“Ow! Fuck! What’s got into you?” Casey bit out, valiantly trying to pull away and massage his sore shoulder.

“You deserved it,” she said, angrily wiping away a tear. “Going after Liam like that? What in the hell were you thinking?”

Her words confirmed a few things. To his ever-lovin’ relief, Chuck had made it there safe and sound. Bothersome that he had figured out what the unfinished business was, and the worse yet, still couldn’t keep his mouth shut worth a damn.

“Not here,” Casey told her, glancing back through the garden towards the road. He didn’t see anyone, but standing there with the door wide open got people dead, so he gently yet firmly pushed the woman to the side and swung it shut.

Now that he was no longer getting girl tears streaked over his coat, he looked over at the only other occupant of the familiar kitchen. “Luciana, still here?” he remarked, his mien shifting to prickly. “Huh. Saw a dead cockroach when I got into town, so I guess that solves the mystery. You will outlive them.”

“John Casey,” she drawled, eyeing him up and down with a smirk firmly in place. “Here to pick up something you misplaced? Yay tall?” and she held up a hand close to the ceiling, “and yay skinny? Kind of cute in a goofy way? Well, I promise the boy’s in nearly the same condition he was when he got here. Maybe just a little worn out, is all?” This came with a rude hand gesture of sorts. “Popular with a few of the men folks.”

“Still a bit of a bitch, I see.”

Luciana grunted, not refuting it. “Now that’s something I never thought I’d see. Johnnie-boy, reminding me of a lost puppy. Doing your best to hide it, but it’s right there.” She reached up and tapped him near his eyes before drawing her hand down his shirt to his heart. “And here. Makes you all warm, doesn’t it?”

Casey felt his back straighten, better to loom over her. But he couldn’t deny the sinking in his chest when he saw that Chuck wasn’t in the kitchen already, even to tell him he was a giant ass for what he did. And Casey already had a comeback to end that in a hurry. Easy enough to drag his lover up to the attic, shut him up by catching his lips, reminding the kid what they should be used for instead of bickering about things he couldn’t change.

He’d kiss him, and keep doing it until it worked. Only then would he back up him up to the bed, pinned full length under Casey’s body, enough to feel the tightening of the kid’s long limbs beneath him ....

“John.”

“Eh?”

“Cockroach? Be nice.”

“That was nice.”

“It is new look for you, John,” Luciana observed, “must be because you’ve gone and fallen in lo -”

“Luciana.” Sabine shook her head at the woman and focused her attention on Casey. “You. Come here,” she said. “I want to get a good look at you. It’s been too long, John.”

When Sabine took Casey’s coat sleeve, he stopped glaring at Luciana and bent his head, giving her a good look as well. There were a few more creases around her eyes and her smile. Other than that, she hadn’t changed much. Full lips that often quirked at him, loose brunette hair past her shoulders, and those green eyes all reminded Casey that if he ever had fallen in love with a woman, this one might be it.

He tried not to be a tease with women, but they were easy, and it was hard to stay out of range. Just because he preferred a man for sex didn’t mean he didn’t like the touch of a woman’s hand, their different scent and lighter pressure.

Sabine’s fondness for firearms and the fact that she was a dead-eye shot helped.

“Haven’t changed a bit, woman,” Casey said.

“You have. She is right, you know. Reminding me of a virgin on his wedding night. You can quit the act of trying to look happy to see me, and I’ll take you up to the boy.”

“Not being antsy,” Casey immediately growled back at her. Hell, busted. “Just want to make sure you didn’t recruit him into active duty while I had my back turned.”

Sabine rolled her eyes and took the key from Luciana. “Follow me. Though I’m sure you remember this place, considering the time you spent there.” Her voice took on a hint of teasing. “What was that again? An altercation with a county judge?”

“I prefer proprietorship disagreement.”

“Regarding the ownership of a certain sapphire necklace.”

“Got your facts mixed up, sister,” Casey said, raising his brows when she turned to unlock the closet. “What’d he do now?”

“What?”

“The key?”

“Oh.” Sabine smiled apologetically, though he could see she was hiding information. “Long story.”

It just figured. “I guess I shoulda warned you he can be headstrong when he gets an idea stuck in his head.” For that, chaining the kid up in a dungeon naked was sounding pretty damn appealing. “Has a tendency to run off half-cocked without thinking things through. Hope he didn’t cause too many problems for you.”

Instead of agreeing, she made a noncommittal noise. “Stop being a dumbass. We both know how highly intelligent he is.”

“He can be a pain in the ass,” Casey clarified, but the little spurt of pride couldn’t be helped. “I reckon some people would call that book smart.”

“And sweet,” Sabine said, reaching around in the dark at waist level to find the latch. “I’m going to miss him.”

Missing him didn’t come close. With each mile Casey had traveled between him and Chuck, he felt his stomach twist between apprehension and excitement. Not just a physical need, though sure, arousal was right there, banging on his lower body, the delicious wrestling that wasn’t an attempt to get away, but to get more.

The uneasiness came with knowing he was about to look into the eyes of the only man he’d ever let own him, his body, his heart, all of him.

He loved Chuck.

There, dammit. Can’t take it back now.

For the first time in his life, Casey said it in his mind consciously when his brain didn’t bite back. He loved him, and the bitch of it was, being sure of it at last, when they were so far apart, sure of it down to the bottom of his worthless soul, meant he should say it now. Love wasn’t fair to him, and hearing it in his mind, he could hold out no longer. Having to accept it was as bad as dying.

Then Casey would be a dead man, he knew.

Tonight he’d die a thousand deaths and tell him, knowing he couldn’t run away from the power of that one feeling.

“Shh.” Casey didn’t even hear the sound of his boot on the bottom step, but Sabine put one finger over her mouth and whispered, “Your boy had a long day yesterday. He’s must still be sleeping. Why don’t you surprise him?”

“Long day?” Casey repeated, unable to withhold a scowl.

“Not like that,” she mouthed back at him. “Up. But be quiet.”

The sound of footsteps would’ve woken up a man accustomed to sleeping with one eye open and a hand on his revolver, but Casey already knew that Chuck could be a deep sleeper. Nothing stirred. Casey followed Sabine’s skirt and climbed the darkened stairs, shoving down the dangerous urge to just grab him or settle into bed, feel that warm body along his.

“Oh, merde,” he heard Sabine say ahead of him when she reached the attic. She didn’t make any noise past the first soft exclamation, so all he could do was think the kid was dozing heavily.

Maybe that was good, being asleep. It wasn’t as if Casey hadn’t thought of waking him up, raking his fingers through the dark messy curls. When Chuck began to flutter his eyelashes, Casey would slide his palm under the covers, seeking any bare skin, running down his flat abdomen. The reassurance that he was there in the flesh, waiting –

Except he wasn’t.

Casey stopped, his hand on the railing. He increased his grip, eyes darting around the attic, first at the vacant bed before right and left. “Chuck?”

There was no sound, save for out on the street, he could hear a horse and wagon clopping by.

“Kid?” Sabine asked. A second later, she strode over to one side of the room, where an alcove formed under the rafters. “Chuck. This isn’t funny, boy.”

Casey turned to her. “Talked you into pulling my leg, huh? Saw me coming and decided to hideout in one of your boudoirs? Maybe make me think that –”

“John,” she broke in, and instead of smiling or winking, as Casey thought she would, her face had gone beyond pale. “This isn’t a joke. He – he should be here. Chuck?”

Even with her telling him outright, it took a second or two to sink in. Why wasn’t the kid poking his head out from the blankets and yapping at him about how he shouldn’t have left him and gone off alone? Hell, by now there should be a pair of long arms to come up to him from behind, drawing Casey against his chest in a close, emotion-absorbing hug, burying his lips at the curve of his neck.

None of that happened.

“The kid’s things are gone,” Sabine said. Her voice surprisingly rose in panic. “His clothes, his books. Everything. They were right here. Everything’s gone.”

“How?” Casey stepped forward, remembering to duck under one of the rafters. With his heart beginning to thud heavily on his chest, he watched as Sabine circled the room, picking up the blankets, walking over to the washstand, a small desk, searching. “What do you mean gone?”

“The satchel. He wouldn’t go anywhere without that.” Sabine pivoted around to face him. “It was odd ... the way he guarded it.”

Hell, yes, he guarded it. Eighty grand and that damn Cipher would do that to a man.

“John, this isn’t a joke. Something’s up. He would’ve never -”

“Sabine.” It took everything in Casey’s willpower not to take her firmly by the shoulders and make her stop pacing. Never had he seen her like this. “Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t ... oh, il ne serait -” she added, low, and looked out towards the small window at one end of the attic. “The men at the door last night. He was worried about us. About staying here.”

“What men?” Casey asked, frowning. “Sabine, you need to stop and tell me what happened.”

“Chuck ... was followed right from the beginning,” Sabine said. She sat herself down on the edge bed and pushed aside a blanket. “When he got off the train, they were behind him. Whoever they are.” The woman sat up taller, giving Casey an almost accusing look. “But I’m sure you know more about that than I do.”

“And you don’t want to know,” Casey told her. He pulled off his hat and rubbed his scalp, but it didn’t relieve any of the pressure building up in his temples. “They didn’t ..?”

“No. Nothing like that. They lost him somewhere between the Prairie Dew and the ironworks factory, but they ... knew there was only place he could’ve ended up.”

“No matter how damn unlikely it was,” Casey muttered.

“Well, after meeting him, I have to agree with you there.” Sabine’s lips tightened, but she couldn’t quite smile. “They kept coming back for him. Always the same men. They said they knew he was here. Even after I formally introduced them to Miss Molly, the man that did most the talking said they would find a way inside.”

“And last night?” Casey asked. The thought of unwanted intruders had the usual effect, to the point his hand automatically went to his holster resting low on his hips. “Did they get in?”

“No.” Sabine cast her eyes about the room and rose to her feet. “But this time it was different. They – Mere de Dieu, you won’t like this.”

“Way past that. Tell me.”

“They said that the magistrate had signed a general warrant ... and they’d have a legal right to search the house.”

“He didn’t talk you into anything idiotic like letting them in? Creating a diversion and hiding behind it so they wouldn’t come back?”

Sabine bit down on her lip. “It wasn’t him ... exactly that made the suggestion. In fact, I don’t think your lover approved of the way he was handled last night ... by a friend of mine I was helping out.”

Casey kept his thumb tucked in his holster, hand gripping his other wrist. Keep it together, asshole, he warned himself. Not easy. What he wanted to do was punch his fist through the nearest wall. “So you let them in?”

“Mal thought –”

“Mal? Jesus –”

“He said it would give them reassurance that your boy wasn’t here, maybe that the trail was dead and they wouldn’t need to come back with the sheriff this morning. They wanted to keep the reward for themselves, it seems.”

“Fucking gallant of them. And him,” Casey said, and there was roughness in his voice as he took her arm to stop her in her tracks. “Gonna get to the part where I know I’m gonna want to shoot someone?”

Sabine looked wary. “You only need to know that they searched the house and came up empty,” she replied. The woman was obviously hiding something that would make him angry, but considering Casey was standing in an empty room without the one thing he came for, he’d let that detail slide for now. “Last night, after they left, we talked ... and your boyfriend ... was concerned for us.”

Casey eyed her. The nerves knotting his stomach refused to let go, but he wouldn’t show a physical reaction, not to her, not even a twitch. “What he’d say?”

“That it wouldn’t be good enough for them. Chuck knew they’d come back today anyway, just as they said they would. He said he should go ... in order to keep us safe. He tried to convince me it was too dangerous for him to stay here.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him to go up to bed. And that I would take care of it.”

Casey looked around the room and felt his jaw tighten. “I can see that advice worked for you as well as it always worked for me.” He stopped there. It was impossible to get angry with that genuine sense of decency. Wasn’t that just one of the kid’s ways that he had drawn Casey in like a fly to spilled honey? “So where is he?”

“I –”

“I don’t hear the mattress creaking,” Luciana called from the stairs. “Surprising, too. I’ve seen Johnnie strip his weapon in thirty seconds flat. Thought he’d have the kid naked in about half that.” Casey heard footsteps on the stairs and a second later, Luciana’s head popped into view. “What? Did I say something that wasn’t true?”

It was a good thing she could see him over the railing right then, because Casey didn’t want her to miss the Cold Glare of Death he had leveled in her direction. “Kind of hard to do anything with the audience of yammering women,” he said. “Not to mention, you let him slip out and hide somewhere else last night.”

“What?” Confused, Luciana stared first at Sabine before scanning the room, wasting her time since it was obviously empty. “I don’t get it. When ..?”

“It appears our visitor ignored my advice and decided to take matters into his own hands.” Sabine gave her an aggravated look meant for someone else and her eyes cut to the window. “He told me he was worried for us. So apparently, he left sometime last night.”

“Last night?”

“When I get my hands on that skinny neck,” Sabine went on, saying the exact words streaming through Casey’s mind, “I’m going to show him why it’s not a good idea to cross a woman who can kick his ass.”

“But – but what if they found ..?” Luciana was nervous, the first indication Casey ever had that the bitch had a heart. “What if he’s in trouble?”

“He’s not,” Casey said.

“How do you know?”

“Because if they caught him last night, they’d be here for me this morning.” He slanted a look at Sabine. “And they would’ve come up with an excuse to arrest you.”

“Okay, so we know he’s safe,” Sabine said, uncertainty creeping into her voice. “Was there ... somewhere else? A place you told him to go if the Sagebrush went bust?”

Casey briefly turned his face to the ceiling. It was easier to avoid her spooked eyes that way, still bright from the tears. Dread began to seep into his midsection. “Never intended for this,” he admitted gruffly. “The plan was to meet here – I never figured he’d pull a fool move like this and leave.”

“But the kid would’ve left something for you,” Sabine said. “He’d find a way.”

“I reckon he would,” Casey murmured, hoping to God it was true. “He would’ve wanted me to know where he went.” Even if he’d gotten fed up enough to tell me not to follow.

“Then it has to be here.” Immediately, the frown that had crossed her face vanished as Sabine tore her gaze away from him and began hurrying around the room. Tossing the blankets off the bed, opening and closing the drawers of the washstand, the woman moved with reckless efficiency. “Luciana, check over there,” she said, motioning.

Casey would’ve moved to help them, but he felt frozen and overheated at the same time. What if Chuck did take the opportunity to leave? What if he wasn’t coming back? Maybe he had decided that being put on that train was the last act Casey would do, since he wouldn’t tell the kid outright that his heart had been torn out by him.

If nothing else, they could do with a proper goodbye. He handled everything badly before. Chuck deserved better than that.

“There’s nothing here,” he heard Luciana say, resorting to looking under the mirror. A fucking mirror. Really?

“John, look at me,” Sabine said. She reached over and touched his arm when he didn’t, forcing him to lock eyes with her. “I know what’s going through your head right now. And it’s crazy. I can see how that kid feels about you. It’s all over his face.” Her strong fingers dug into his arm. “You do realize you’re the love of his life, don’t you? So are you going to stand there, or are you going to look? I know he left something for you to find.”

Casey pulled away and dropped his arms to the sides, his hands fisted. Honestly, he’d heard everything Sabine and even Chuck told him, the implied promises between them, but if there was ever a man harder to love than the one standing in Casey’s boots, he’d like to meet him.

“If he left something, then where is it?” Casey asked. A muscle twitched his in jaw. “A message, a letter, hell, I don’t know, a –”

“No podia ser ...” Luciana gasped for air and whirled towards the stairs. “Letra?”

Casey and Sabine turned towards Luciana. Whatever the hell she had just said, the headstrong Spanish woman suddenly seemed as breakable as a ceramic sculpture.

“Luciana, what is it?” Sabine asked. “Was there a note – something from the kid?”

“En el fuego!”

“Where are you going?” Casey demanded, stepping in front of Sabine. “What the hell are you not saying?”

“The fire.” Luciana spun around and broke into a sprint taking the stairs two at a time. “Letra!”

Spanish or not, Casey swore. A beat later he was already pounding down the stairs behind her. Feeling droplets of cold sweat spring up under his collar, he burst through the door and across the room, hurtling the chairs out of the way.

Without any regard for the flames lapping close to her sleeve, Luciana reached into the fire and pulled out –

Nothing more than a few scraps of papery ashes, disintegrating when they hit the air.

As he watched the blackened slivers break into dozens of pieces, it was growing harder to breathe, like sucking in mud instead of air.

It was a long shot, but there had to be something else. Casey got down on his haunches in front of the fire and spied another piece of scorched paper. Quick as he could, he pinched one end and dragged it out onto the hearth, carefully tamping the flame with the toe of his boot. He wasn’t surprised when the paper dispersed, nothing more than bits of powder.

Maybe that was a sign. Maybe it really was over.

Next to him, he felt Sabine get down on her knees and place a hand on his thigh. She tried to say something or make a noise, but nothing seemed to be working.

Casey looked over at Luciana and then down at the ashes, his burned fingers. “Lemme go out on a limb here,” he mumbled. “In Spanish, letra means ‘I fucked up royally?’” Because he wanted to kill Luciana. Why would she burn his only connection to the kid?

Dammit if that woman wasn’t beginning to quietly cry. “I didn’t know!” she said. “We thought it was the sheriff at the door. I couldn’t let them find the letter from John – but there was more than that ... I didn’t have time to think. I just wanted to get rid of them!”

“Luciana, are you sure?” Sabine, being calm, though her voice cracked. “There was more than one?”

“Yes.” Luciana sniffed, a noise would’ve grated on Casey’s eardrums if he could focus on it. “It had to be from him ... it happened so fast! I’m sorry – I ruined it. Not fair to you .... Que hice.”

“Luciana, it’s not your fault,” Sabine began, but before she could stop her, Luciana abruptly rose and ran out of the kitchen. The door slammed behind her, leaving Casey and Sabine staring, still trying to grasp what had happened.

Burned the letter. That’s what happened. All of it was far too gone.

“Ah, Jesus Christ,” Casey muttered, resting his elbow on his knee. Slowly, his eyes roamed over the papers. It really was possible to feel a thousand things and be unable to decipher any of them, he discovered for the first time. His heart filled with a jagged ache and he had no idea if it was the anger or the confusion or the fear he had just lost something so precious, so delicate, dissolving when he tried to clench his fingers around it.

“Casey, you could still catch up to him.”

Casey closed his eyes briefly and pushed his fingertips against his eyelids. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“After dinner last night.”

“Twelve hours, Sabine. There have been at least a half dozen trains through here. Not to mention the coaches. Hell, he could’ve bought a horse and tried to light out on his own. I don’t know which direction he went in – he could be headed anywhere by now.”

“Chuck had the money to do that?”

“Enough ... to go wherever he wanted,” Casey answered.

“If you asked around,” Sabine went on, her voice going up an octave, “someone would’ve seen him, John.”

“And let the search party know he’s left town. And arrest me.”

“Mon Dieu.”

Casey forced himself to swallow through a throat that ached. Fate wasn’t done with him yet, it seemed, maybe figuring she had to kick him in the balls one more time. Quietly seething, he looked down, and something caught his eye. Way in the back, stuck between two logs. More than a shard, larger than the other fragments.

Ignoring the heat, Casey grabbed the largest scrap between two fingers, the hot ash blistering him again but nothing like the hurt in his chest. The piece was singed along one side, but if he squinted, Casey might be able to make out a few words.

“What does it say?” Sabine asked.

Looking over, Casey saw her eyes sheened with tears. Wordlessly, he passed the scrap to her and looked down at the floor. Don’t be a complete pussy. You’re not allowed to cry.

‘... here with me ... as long as we’re together ...’

Sabine stared and turned it over. Once her eyes coursed over the paper, she climbed to her feet, paused, and grabbed something off the mantle. “Wh-what’s this?” She held up a thin, gold, chain, one that Casey immediately recognized.

Separated, only temporarily, from the pocket watch. It was as if the kid was standing behind him, warm body pressed to his, whispering in his ear. Two things meant to be attached. Never pull it back apart when it finally comes together. Chuck meant for him to find it, bring it back to him.

Casey swiped it from her hand and stuffed it in his pocket.

Sabine moved away from him.

God, he hated crying women. Made it worse when his own throat was going tight and hot. All the loneliness and rage of his past ebbed up from the place he had shoved it, trying to push away the hope and promise of the unconditional love from someone who accepted and wanted Casey for all he was. The sacred gift he had found. And lost.

Once he felt he could speak, Casey blew a breath, his eyes on the dying flames eating away at the feathery black ashes. “I’ll find him, Sabine.”

After all the harrowing long years when he never let himself entertain the notion that he would find his other half, even in his darkest moments, Casey knew the kid had given him a compelling reason to never give up, never stop looking.

I’ll find him.

He didn’t know how, he only knew he would.

At least he hoped God was listening for once to man who didn’t deserve it.

Fini

-x- Sins Fell Angels-x-

A/N: Keep in mind that if you kill me, it will have to end there. ;)

First, I have to say thanks to a few folks. (Yes, you know who you are, but I’ll do it anyway.) This is a monumental labor of love, made a million times better with the support of readers like you. Whether you stop by to read, or to comment, or to send a PM, I appreciate each and every one of you for being here.

Up next, the final book in the trilogy, 'Where The Road Ends'.


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